General 'Storm' Germaine
by iamQuoz
Summary: Vault-Tech never duplicated a vault experiment, until they stumbled across a dispute that could only be solved by vault's 111 and 112, respectively. This story, is that story. Of twin vaults, and of two Sole Survivors... and how the Vault Dweller from 111 is a massive dork who cannot introduce himself to save his life. How Vault Dweller 112 tears a path to Sanctuary to find him.
1. Sanctuary

**Chapter One: Sanctuary**

It wasn't until long after they had settled in, set into Sanctuary, that Preston got to really talk to his savior. A vault dweller, like he had thought, vault 111 apparently somewhere just up the hill.

He was very tall, and at 6'2", certainly taller than most anyone he'd seen in the wider Commonwealth. He had clean white teeth, and his brown hair was thick and healthy.

He was pale, but not in an unhealthy 'lived underground in a vault my whole life' way, his skin had seen sun before. He was very built as well, the vault 111 suit not leaving much to the imagination, practically seeming like it had been _painted_ on.

"Cryogenically frozen, for 210 years according to Cogsworth...my Mr. Handy unit." He'd said pointing at a slightly dented looking Mr. Handy. "They were doing an _experiment_. One we'd never signed up for, we'd been told they were decontamination pods. Somehow life support was cut to all the units but mine, so...I'm the only one left."

Preston had nodded, "So you're like a pre-war ghoul then."

The man seemed confused "A...what?"

Oh right, the man had said himself that he'd only thawed out earlier in the day. Preston explained feral and non-feral ghouls, super mutants, and synths the best he could as the vault dweller helped him gather mattresses and build beds for their makeshift settlement.

He seemed to take it all in stride, "A lot has happened in 210 years huh?" He sighed deeply, "This is going to take some serious time to sink in. I think i'm still in shock. To be honest this feels more like a nightmare than reality."

Preston laughed, "Man, I can only _imagine_."

"Tell me more about this whole Minutemen thing, its it like the Minutemen of America's founding? An armed civilian militia to deal with raiders and protecting settlers at a minute's notice?"

Preston sighed, and explained about the old General, how he'd kept the Minutemen organized and the in-fighting to a minimum. How he'd died and the Minutemen had fallen apart before Preston's very eyes. How he'd come to being the only active Minuteman left.

The vault dweller listened compassionately and sympathized greatly with him, Preston looked at his newly found confidant and an idea struck him, "What the Minutemen need is a new leader...and I think that could be you."

The vault dweller binked in disbelief, "Me? Why not you?" he seemed genuinely baffled, "You seem like exactly like what the Minutemen need."

Preston looked away in shame. "If I were, I would have been able to keep them together...when you stormed into that building and damn near _single-handedly_ cleared out the raiders that had us pinned… the way you had claimed the building's fusion core _**before we'd even told you about it**_...the way you just took to that power armor like it was a second skin. Like...you were the answer to my prayers."

The man blushed, "I was in the army, before the bombs dropped. Spent quite a bit of time in power armor, that's all."

"That's hardly 'all', taking on that Mirelurk Queen, when it's becoming _very_ clear to me that you've no idea what a Mirelurk _**even is**_."

"Some sort of freakish mutant crab by the looks of it, but I get your meaning…"

"Please… The Minutemen need to make a comeback, we're the best hope for the Commonwealth." Preston sighed, "The Brotherhood of Steel thinks that they are, but they're not here on the ground protecting people...just up in that fancy ship of theirs, clearing out feral ghouls or super mutants when it's convenient for them or they gain something. They extort their protectees and are anti-synth, anti-ghoul…"

The vault dweller nodded, "Sounds like they got a real stick up their rear-ends."

Preston chuckled humorously, "Yeah, and the Railroad is only really focused on saving synths...which it's good that somebody really cares about 'em, but…"

"What's really needed is is someone that wants to help everyone, not just the elite few?" the vault dweller interrupted, "Yeah, I get that… Alright, I'll join the Minutemen."

Preston had never felt more relieved in his life...well other than when the self-same man that stood before him had barreled in and helped them without a moment's hesitation. "Alright, welcome aboard General!"

"Uh...that's _**quite**_ the promotion."

"The leader of the Minutemen is always called General, the one good thing about me being the only active Minuteman is that nobody can argue with me when I say that you're the General now."

The man took in a deep settling breath, "Okay then Preston, what do you think we need to do first?"

Preston directed him to Sturges, who was working on setting up their radio array, and told him that he could help to build almost anything, "He'd probably be able to fix up that old power armor."

Next he focused on helping set up a rudimentary defensive wall from scrap wood.

He'd then he saw a distant flair that called for aid in a far off settlement, he handed off the General's uniform to the vault dweller and he sent him off to the settlement.

It was only when the man left that it finally hit Preston, he had _**absolutely**_ no idea what the man's name was.

-chapter break-

* * *

Preston spent the next hour or so patrolling the edges of Sanctuary, warily eyeing the distant horizon, wondering when the General might make it back… _if he makes it back._ Preston had thrown a poor, confused, pre-war vault dweller into the deep end, and he'd not even bothered to learn his-

"Excuse me Mr. Garvey," Cogsworth, the Mr. Handy unit that had been the vault dweller's pre-war, and seemed as loyal to him now as he had been back then, timidly approached Preston, a bottle of purified water in one of his claws, "I thought you might require this."

"Oh." He took the water, only now realizing how dehydrated he'd let himself become, "Thank you Cogsworth."

"Think nothing of it sir, the master specified that I should keep an eye on you all before he left, and informed me that I was to make sure whatever water I managed to purify whilst he was away should be made available to the settlers of the former Sanctuary Hills, now deemed only 'Sanctuary'."

Preston finished off the water while Cogsworth talked, handing off the empty bottle. "How is everyone settling in?"

"They all seem still rather wary, I'm afraid Mr. Garvey, but I believe this will be properly alleviated with time."

"Time heals all wounds huh?"

"Indeed, Mr. Garvey."

Preston considered the Mr. Handy, it might be less awkward to ask him. "Say, uh Cogsworth."

"Yes, Mr. Garvey?"

"What...what uh, is your...master's _name_ …"

The Mr. Handy unit laughed, "You didn't ask?"

Preston blushed a bit at that, "Was kind of busy, protecting everybody...and well I guess it didn't occur to me?"

All three of Cogsworths' eyes adjusted their focal shudders and he chuckled to himself, "I'm wondering if I should tell you, or if I should wait for you to ask sir." the Mr. Handy unit seemed almost amused at the prospect, "Sir might be amused that he neglected to introduce himself."

Preston reflected on their first meeting, "There wasn't exactly a lot of time… but Cogsworth, I made him the General of the Minutemen, he instructed you to take care of us, and I don't even know his _**name**_."

Cogsworth whirred, seemingly shrugging his two foremost appendages, "He surely won't hold that against-" The Mr. Handy suddenly adjusted his eyestalks to focus on something behind Preston, "oh there he is!"

Preston whirled around, and sure enough, there he was. He looked no worse for wear, with the German shepherd known as Dogmeat loyally following at his heels. He was smiling as Cogsworth offered him up a bottle of purified water, "Thanks Cogs."

"Think nothing of it sir!"

Preston coughed awkwardly, "How'd it go General?"

He got a beaming smile, "I got a lot of ' _the Minutemen are back!'_ and ' _it's the General of the Minutemen!'_ me and Dogmeat made short work of the raiders, didn't we boy?"

He stooped down to pet a very content and appreciative Dogmeat.

The Mr. Handy unit whirred happily, "I'm so glad to see you back in one piece sir, I've been worried sick."

The General gave a half shrug, "I'm glad to see you too Cogs, I'm going to go clean up and rustle up some grub."

The Mr. Handy unit seemed to nod, "Indeed, you need to eat. Keep up your strength! I'll get a fire going outside the old homestead, shall I?"

"Please do, thanks Cogsworth."

Preston watched the Mr. Handy unit fly away towards one of the far off homes, gathering firewood as he went. He turned to the General...man, the uniform looked...really good on him, actually.

The General turned and considered him, "You look to be deep in thought Preston, what's up?"

Preston jolted, a little guiltily, "I… realized, I never got your name?"

The man blinked, and laughed, "Oh man, I didn't...when you told me your name I should have done the same, right— there's me, forgetting my social graces again. My name is Maelstrom Germain, but I usually go by Malcolm...friends call me Mal.

"Maelstrom… that means like a big storm or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he said shrugging "it's a family name."

"General 'Storm' Germaine."

"Heh, has a nice ring to it I suppose."

Sturges called out from where he was stationed over by the now set up radio array, "Heya- Garvey they're talkin' 'bout the General!"

Preston walked over to Sturges, Malcolm following behind. ' _The Minutemen have found a new General, personally defended a settlement all on his own.'_ one voice said. ' _All alone?'_ another voice sought to clarify, ' _well apparently he had a dog with him, but yeah!'_

Malcolm huffed a self conscious chuckle, "I think I made a pretty good first impression.

 _You have no idea_ , Preston thought, _you saved the Minutemen..._ _ **you saved me**_ _. You saved all the people the old Minutemen almost failed at Quincy._

The Commonwealth had a new hope.


	2. Detective Nick Valentine

**Chapter Two: Detective Valentine**

General 'Storm' Germaine had found Diamond City, and he wasn't impressed. Dressed as an average (if slightly more armed) settler in order to travel incognito, he had noticed a stark tension in the air. "People going missing, huh. Surely _someone_ here cares about finding them?

Piper had scoffed, "Not Diamond City security, that's for sure. There is the detective, Nick Valentine, but he's been off on some sort of case for a few days, at least!"

"Where is he located at, I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Piper directed him to the agency, "Big neon sign, can't miss it."

The heart with an arrow through it was a nice touch…

Ellie was flustered and upset when he asked after the detective, "He's been missing for two weeks, he went off to Vault 114, and I haven't heard from him since. I'm worried. Skinny Malone might've…"

Malcolm raised a reassuring hand, "Shhh, I understand, I'm here to help."

"You...are?" Ellie seemed floored, "I- didn't know who could possibly help Nick, who do you send to find the missing detective, sounds like the beginning of a bad riddle right?"

Malcolm shrugged, "I suppose it does, at that. Just tell me where vault 114 is, and how I'll know Mr. Valentine when I see him."

"Can't miss him, with that fedora and trench coat of his…" Ellie handed Malcolm a pack of smokes and a note she hurridly scribbled, "Here, so he'll know I sent you."

-chapter break-

* * *

' _This vault makes no sense, built out of a formerly public metro station...I suppose it'd be centrally located,_ _ **but still**_ _.'_

Malcolm stealthily incapacitated another gangster with a tranquilizer dart. ' _No need to kill anybody, they'd only think they were defending themselves shooting at an intruder.'_ he thought to himself.

Didn't stop him from looting their unconscious bodies, but that was neither here nor there.

He observed the guy seemingly taunting someone on the other side of a large window, he called the voice Valentine… bingo.

"Nighty night." Mal whispered as the struck gangster slumped to the ground.

He ran over to the terminal, passing by a shaded figure behind the window.

"Hey you," the voice said, "If you're here to rescue me you got about three minutes to hack that terminal-" he stopped suddenly as Malcolm had already managed to open the door just as he'd said that.

"My knight in shining armor."

The shadowed figure had glowing yellow eyes, and gashes in his face that revealed an undernetwork of circuitry, his right hand was entirely devoid of his artificial skin and it twitched nervously for a gun he didn't have … a synth, somewhere between the entirely mechanical gen 2's and the entirely realistic gen 3's. He was dressed exactly like Ellie had described.

"Question is…" the man continued warily, "Why does he risk life and limb to rescue little 'ol me?"

Malcolm handed him the packet of cigarettes, "Good gracious, Ellie. I should give that girl a raise." He considered Malcolm, "You, uh got a lighter by chance?"

Malcolm fished out his silver lighter, "It's pristine, pre-war. I don't smoke but it sure comes in handy."

Nick lit a cigarette as he considered the unconscious guards, "Gee, did Ellie pay ya extra to rescue me without killin' anyone? Because if not, bravo."

"I'm not being paid. I just figured that someone in Diamond City ought to care about the missing people, and a resident detective seemed just the ticket. Of course, it turned out the detective in question was _**also missing**_."

"You… you're _not_ doing this for money?"

"Nope. Don't get me wrong, I'm looting the heck out of Skinny Malone's guys and this vault, but I would argue that he was asking for it. Didn't even ask Ellie for any caps-"

"I'd call BS, but something tells me you're being genuine…"

They got to a security door, "I hear big fat footsteps on the other side, Must be Skinny...it's an ironic name. Prepare yourself for anything."

"Roger that."

* * *

-chapter break-

They were leisurely walking together back towards Diamond City, and ultimately to Nick's office. Which Nick jokingly agreed to with an amused, "Walking me home 'eh? Well sure, It'll give me more time to figure you out."

"Feel free to ask me anything, I'm a bit of an open book."

"So...I noticed the Pip Boy."

"Vault 111, we were cryogenically frozen, but something happened to the life support so I'm the only one left. Only woke up like...a month ago... _I think._ I'd have to ask to make sure, I haven't been keeping track... I'm pre-war."

"No fooling? That would explain a lot about you to be honest. Still got those 'help thy fellow man' pre-war values."

"Was a solder, helping people's always been sort of second nature to me, y'know?"

"I'd wondered, you got that whole solder vibe. I myself am the result of an Institute experiment, far as I can figure. First memory of mine is waking up in a dumpster, so I can only guess that they threw me away."

"That's harsh… how'd you get into the whole 'detective' bit, _especially_ the hat and trench coat?"

"The Institute loaded up the hardware between my ears with some brain scan of a pre-war cop, Nick Valentine, so I have his memories, they come to me in flashes. Some of them are faded to all heck, but I've got a pretty good impression of detectives of the time dressing like this."

"You're right they did, it was like… _**the**_ look."

"Heh, figured if I put on the hat and trench coat people would know I was serious."

"It is a very iconic look, honestly glad the detective aesthetic survived 200 years."

"...So were you...uh. Close to anyone in vault 111?"

"I mean, they were my neighbors, mostly. Not enough time for anyone further than Sanctuary Hills to get to there after the bombs dropped, but... as much of a people person as I might seem now, I was very...introverted before the war… if you can believe that. Something must have shaken loose when I woke up; the ' _you've got to actually talk to people'_ switch."

"I honestly still can't believe you convinced Marreen to go home, and have Skinny let us go."

"You helped me with that whole, 'for old time sake' thing, but yeah, what can I say, I've become quite the charmer."

During their chat they had finally made it to the hallway leading to Nick's detective agency.

"That you have doll—erm."

"Doll?"

Nick Valentine seemed flustered at his slip, "Not that you're feminine at all or- Nick Valentine's speech patterns sometimes- you're…"

Malcolm was positively beaming from ear to ear, showing off his pristine white teeth, "No, no. I - I actually _like it_? Nobody's ever called me doll before… I suppose it's weird if I say you can totally call me that, and I won't mind?"

Nick shook his head, "Doll, you are, without a doubt, the most refreshing change of pace I think I've met in the Commonwealth in _a long time_."

Nick reached the door and opened it, and Ellie practically sobbed in releaf. "Nick!"

"Hey Ellie." Nick said grinning as Ellie threw her arms around him, "Quite the rescue you arranged for me."

"I thought you were _dead._ " She turned toward Malcolm "Oh thank you so much! I...I don't even know your name!"

Valentine turned sharply in surprise, "Come to think of it, neither do I!" he chucked ruefully to himself, "Must be slipping, if I never even asked your name."

"I'm terrible at introducing myself. Maelstrom Germaine, of the Minutemen, at your service."

Ellie's jaw dropped, "Germaine… as...as in _General Germaine_. You're the new General of the Minutemen?"

Nick seemed shocked, "Barely a month out of the vault and you're the new General of the Minutemen?"

"It's a long story; short version is I rescued the last remaining Minuteman, Preston Garvey and a handful of settlers straight after defrosting and Preston basically strong armed me into trying to reform the Minutemen."

Ellie interjected, "And you're doing a heck of a job at it!"

Malcolm shrugged, "Saved a _few_ settlements… and we've got about 90-100 men at arms now, which is apparently more than the local chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel… heard there was some trouble at Diamond City with some disappearances… came here incognito to ferret out the problem and find a solution… You guys know the rest."

Nick lit a cigarette, "Well if that doesn't solidify my first impressions of you…" Nick considered the lighter he'd been handed earlier, it was engraved, ' _Maelstrom Germaine III'_. "This was your lighter, from before the war?"

"My dad's. I don't smoke, but I kept it as a sort of good luck charm. Maelstrom is a family name, so if you wanted to get technical, my name is Maelstrom Gemaine IV, but honestly that sounds so pretentious. My friends mostly call me Malcolm or Mal."

Ellie seemed in awe, "And the Minutemen call you General 'Storm' Gemaine." she shyly buffed her right shoe against the ground, "I honestly had no idea, when you asked how you could help...I…"

Malcolm shook his head, "Well I didn't exactly introduce myself, anyway, you got an answer for that riddle of yours."

Ellie laughed, "I...suppose I did, at that!"

Nick raised a near invisible brow, "What riddle?"

Ellie sat on the edge of her desk, "Who do you send to find a missing detective?"

Nick chuckled, "Apparently; 'a total stranger who actually turns out to be the General of the Minutemen' quite the answer."

Maelstrom blushed, "I _was_ traveling incognito...say, Nick?"

Nick considered the lighter, "I suppose you'll be wanting this back?"

Mal laughed, "It does come in handy, but what I was going to ask is -next time you go on a perilous case, _take some backup with you_."

Nick ruefully smiled, "Good help is hard to find these days, unless of course you're volunteering yourself, doll?"

Ellie giggled, "Did...did you just call him... _ **Doll**_?"

"Sure did Ellie, it's an inside joke."

"Barely known him for an hour, and you already have inside jokes!" Ellie clapped her hands in glee, "It's like a match made in detective heaven!"

Malcolm favored them both with a bright smile, "I've always wanted to be a detective."

Nick clapped his left hand on Malcolm's shoulder, "Alrighty, we'll set up the detective agency's radio up on your Pip Boy so that we can get into contact with you. We'll set up a cut of the profit for the cases you join in on, and it's only fair that you get at least half the fee I got paid to find Marleen too." Nick handed over a bag of bottle caps, "and that I give you back the _heirloom_ lighter you lent me."

Malcolm chuckled, "It's more of a good luck charm than it is a lighter," he said as he takes it, "Tempted to leave it with you actually, from what I've seen, you fall into some seriously sticky situations."

Nick shrugged, "Nah, don't need luck when I got you partner."

Ellie squealed, "This is great, maybe now I won't have to worry about you so much Nick, finally got somebody watching your back!"

Malcolm suddenly started rooting through his pack, "Oh that reminds me!" he fished out an impressively mended black trench coat, "I'd scavenged this like a week ago, fitted it with ballistic weave and everything but it's a little small on me, was hoping to get it to someone who appreciated the _aesthetic_."

Nick looked floored, " _You're serious_ , wow you are honestly something else aren't ya?" Nick tried on the coat and it fit perfectly, "I… can't accept this… Not without repaying you!"

Malcolm gave a faux stern scoul "Got to make sure my detective partner is properly outfitted don't I? If you really want to give me something, there is a bit of info you could help me with?"

Nick looked up determinedly, "Name it."

Mal seemed taken aback, and he laughed, "It's… finding pre-war ghouls and pointing them out to me, or leading me their direction… I am sort of hoping to finding more people from...my… _our_ time?

"Ah, want to reminisce about the olden days?"

Malcolm sighed deeply, "Yeah to be honest, just somebody who'll get all my nerdy comic book references. Like, I don't know… the Silver Shroud, was always my favorite."

Nick's yellow eyes shined brightly, "Doll, have _**I ever**_ got the perfect ghoul for the job!"


	3. Goodneighbor Ghouls

**Chapter Three: Goodneighbor Ghouls**

Mayor John Hancock wasn't a pre-war ghoul, but he's the first non-feral ghoul Malcolm meets, and _what an impression._ A ghoul dressed exactly like the original John Hancock, with the tri-corner hat and everything, _stabbing_ a guy trying to hustle him for 'insurance' and disrespecting his office of mayor.

He also appeared to be high on chems, so Mal wondered how much of the 'easy going charismatic guy' was a product of that, and how much of it was genuine.

"I know you probably had it handled, but sometimes a mayor's got to make a point." he said breezily. "Ya feel me?"

Malcolm nodded, "What better way to make a point, than with a tip of a knife."

Hancock laughed, "I like you stranger, you got wit. Rare thing these days. Welcome to Goodneighbor; we're of the people, for the people, ya dig?"

"Yeah, Nick Valentine sent me-"

"Oh Nicky, yeah he's a great guy. I know him. You tracking down a missing person?"

"Well hopefully he's not missing, I just need to find the Memory Den?"

"Alrighty, that's easy enough friend, it's just down the way, you can even see the sign from here!"

"Thank you, I appreciate your help, all of it."

"Just give Nicky my best, and tell 'im to come visit me, okay? I can't get into Diamond City, they're too anti-ghoul for that."

"That's rude of them, I'll pass the message along when I next see him."

After a few exchanges of farewells, Malcolm continued on the the Memory Den.

Malcolm was looking for Kent Connolly, a pre-war ghoul who rented a room in the 'Memory Den' where people re-lived old memories, which considering what Malcolm was after, seemed rather appropriate.

He apparently was a huge Silver Shroud fan, and actually broadcasted some of the old radio shows from the room he rented there.

Irma looked skeptical of someone who wanted to meet Kent until Malcolm explained that he _really_ wanted to talk comics, and was a huge fan of the Silver Shroud.

Malcolm was allowed to knock on the door, "W-who's there?" a stutter, like Nick had said, but not a nervous one. He'd apparently had the speech impediment even before the war. "A huge Silver Shroud fan, just wanted to meet the guy responsible for airing the old serials."

Kent hummed behind his door, "Alrighty, if y-you are s-such a h-huge fan of the Shroud, w-what is the name of t-the robot inventor?"

"The Mechanical Maestro."

The door opened and Kent sized Malcolm up from a gap in the door. "Y-you. You're a f-fan of the Shroud?" he said disbelievingly, "You l-look like a j-jock, sort."

Malcolm handed Kent some comics that he's managed to scavenge, "Appearances can be deceiving." Kent practically threw open the door and waived Malcolm in.

* * *

"So d-detective Valentine told ya 'bout me?" Kent wondered aloud, "Y-yeah he v-visits the Memory Den s-sometimes for his cases, but y-you probably know t-that. He knows about m-my b-broadcast?"

"Yeah I asked him, and him being sort of pre-war himself, I'd figured he'd know of the Silver Shroud. He vaguely remembers it, but he's not a fan himself."

Kent laughed, "So he pointed ya in my d-direction?"

Mal smiled, "Yeah, I thought I'd be nice to find someone who'd like to talk about comics with me, and the radio show too."

"Heh… y'know a-about where t-they taped the s-show?"

"Yeah, Hubris Comics they almost filmed a TV show, I think."

"You're r-right, got as far as t-the c-costumes… you know, what w-would be fun?"

Kent told Malcolm about how the costume was probably still in the studio, and it'd be really cool to have such an iconic piece of Silver Shroud memorabilia. Malcolm, of course, agreed heartily. Agreed to check it out and let Kent know when he'd found it.

Malcolm immediately visited the comic shop and found not only the costume, but a few comics and also all the reels of the first season Silver Shroud radio broadcast squirreled away in a box in the backroom. Jackpot.

Malcolm also picked up enough ballistic weave on his way back to Goodneighbor to use to kit out the whole costume, because why not?

He passed by Diamond City and informed Nick that Hancock wanted him to visit Goodneighbor more, and Nick had said, 'I might get around to it pretty soon.' so he'd passed on that message.

When he got back to Goodneighbor Kent was overjoyed. Eagerly backing up the radio reels, gushing about the 'lost season' and how he was sure that none of the first season reels had ever been recovered in such good shape before. Malcolm sewed in the ballistic weave, into the costume as Kent detailed how he had gotten a modded prop silver machine gun to actually work.

Almost like they could bring the Silver Shroud to life. They talked late into the night, only realizing how late it was when Kent started yawning, "We've b-been at this f-for h-hours, it's p-past midnight!"

Malcolm shrugged, "Wow, we really talked the day away, but I had a blast, this was really fun and very relaxing."

"It-it's not safe to t-travel the Commonwealth at n-night."

"I could just get a room here at the Memory Den?"

"I-Irma's probably asleep," Kent eyed the single bed in his room, and if ghouls could blush he would be, "Y-you could s-stay h-here, w-with me?" nervous stuttering mixed in with his natural speech impediment.

Malcolm yawned, "Probably a good idea, better than traveling at night...man I'm beat." Malcolm rolled out a sleeping bag, "Been a long time since I had a sleepover."

* * *

They woke up late in the morning, with Kent waking first. He looked at the sleeping vault dweller, and realized with a start, 'I don't even know the guy's name!', but he knew he trusted this man, this vault dweller. Pre-war like him, and so kind. He'd given Kent so much hope, and he'd never felt safer.

Still though, sleeping in the same room with someone whose name he didn't even know was so unlike him. Malcolm stirred as Kent shifted to get up.

Malcolm stretched awake, "Man, I haven't slept so comfortably in...a long while."

"R-really?" Kent marveled, "M-me n-neither."

Malcolm got up and considered the costume he'd carefully hung up the night before, and put it on over his own clothes, "Fits really well actually," he considered his reflection in a mirror as he adjusted the hat and fedora.

Kent felt in awe of this strange vault-dweller, "Y-you look e-exactly like 'im. You...you c-could almost be the Shroud! Fighting crime and e-everything!"

Maelstrom responded in a booming voice, a marvelous fax simile of that of the radio broadcasts. "I shall clean up Goodneighbor, fear me evil doers for death has come for you and I- I am its' Shroud!"

Kent whimpered, it was almost like the Silver Shroud was standing right in front of him. He could almost reach out and- when had he stood up? Kent looked and saw his had placed flat on the back of the shoulder of the costume.

The vault dweller turned suddenly, and Kent found himself _touching his chest._

Kent gulped in a nervous breath as he found himself frozen to the spot, with the Shroud asking him ' _What's wrong Kent, are you alright?'._

"I-I...I never got your name!"

The Shroud chuckled with a self depreciative tinge, "I'm terrible at introducing myself. Seriously, ask Nick next time he comes by, I'm just awful at it… Just promise not to freak out on me?"

Kent marveled at a seemingly bashful Shroud, "Y-you're afraid of i-introducing yourself? A-afraid I'll t-treat ya different?"

Malcolm shrugged, "My name… _might_ have preceded me?"

"You're not a famous gang member or raider or anything?" the vault dweller shook his head adamantly, "No, the exact opposite actually."

"So...you're saying you're a h-hero. A g-genuine h-hero?"

Kent saw a look concern spread on the handsome vault dwellers' face, "Sit down f-for a sec?"

Malcolm sat on the bed, and Kent nervously hugged him, he pulled away just as the hug was beginning to be reciprocated, "I knew it, the second y-you returned w-with the costume , the c-comics, and the reels. I knew you were a hero. Your name won't c-change that, but I'd s-still like to k-know."

"Maelstrom Germaine, call me Malcolm, or Mal. Please... of the Minutemen… I'm their General."

Kent jumped in shock, "A-and...you...gave me…" Kent gasped, "The...the fact t-that y-you g-gave me the t-time of day even!" Kent looked at the wary face of the man sat in front of him, "You- you're _**the**_ hero… wow."

Malcolm sighed, pleadingly he said, "Please, I'm just-"

Kent suddenly hugged Malcolm again, surprising him, "A h-huge Silver Shroud n-nerd turned cosplayer?"

" _ **Yes."**_ Malcolm said desperately, "That's _**exactly**_ what I am." He smiled even as tears of relief streamed down his face, "I just woke up—thawed out, _like a month_ ago, and just started helping people. So I wouldn't have to think about how I was 200 plus years into a post-war future, and how my world was gone. Somehow, _**and I don't know how**_ , I have become the 'Commonwealth's Greatest Hope'." Malcolm let out a sob, "I'm just a normal guy… honest."

"You...said earlier, 'bout c-cleaning up Goodneighbor?"

Malcolm nodded, wiping at his tears "Just need to root out the criminal element, know where I should start?"

Kent raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "A-aren't you busy w-with the Minutemen?"

Malcolm sighed, "I'm delegating, due to check in with Preston Garvey in a few days, so I have some time to burn…"

* * *

Malcolm started his quest by wiping the floor with a chem dealer who sold chems to children, and various other nefarious characters. He even left behind the Shroud's calling card so that people who discovered their corpses would know the Silver Shroud was cleaning up Goodneighbor.

He attracted the attention of Mayor John Hancock again, pretty quick.

"Heard that there was a costume freak running around Goodneighbor, who wasn't me. You look familiar actually… yeah, the guy who was looking for the Memory Den?"

"I am he."

"You're something else, running around, bashing heads, I respect that. So far. You seem to have good intentions, took out some real lowlifes. My question is, why?"

"I need a _reason_ for being against selling chems to kids?"

"...Point taken, again respect. Who's even paying…" Hancock considered, "Wait, the Memory Den is where Connolly is at, he put ya up to this?"

"Gave me the idea for using the costume, but I'm not doing this for caps. _I am_ picking up the stuff and caps the criminal element drop when I route them, but Kent didn't pay me anything."

"Figures it was his idea...the costume, I mean." Hancock took a huff of Jet, "Man Valentine sent a real doozy my way."

Fahrenheit coughed, "Speaking of Detective Valentine, he has just arrived at Goodneighbor."

Hancock hurried out into the courtyard, "Nicky!"

Valentine sighed at the ghoul's enthuseasum, "Hancock, long time no see."

"Vault dweller send you my way?"

Malcolm followed after Hancock, "Hey Nick, I still am _terrible_ at introducing myself."

Nick laughed, "Nice get up doll, I should have figured you were behind the reports of 'The Silver Shroud' cleaning up Goodneighbor."

Hancock almost doubled over with laughter, "Is..is your name _**Doll?**_ " he practically snorted, "That's a hell of a name for a guy built like you Sunshine."

"Name's Maelstrom Germaine-"

Hancock seemed to instantly sober, and be in awe, "Wait...like the Maelstrom Germaine. As in _**the**_ General 'Storm' Germaine, of Minutemen fame?"

Malcolm nodded, "The very same, feel free to call me Sunshine though, that's a new one."

Nick patted Malcolm's shoulder, "It certainly suits you doll."

Hancock straightened, "You got to tell me the story of how you two came to be in cahoots, I want the full story. _Especially,_ how in the hell Valentine came across the notion of calling you 'doll'."


	4. Robert Joeseph MacCready

**Chapter Four: Robert Joseph MacCready**

 _ **Author's note:**_ _It being a videogame and all, it can't have every possible name recorded, I know this. But when you can romance a character in less than a few in-game days without your name even coming up, it becomes really noticeable. Also, our poor Malcolm is still bad at introducing himself._

-start chapter-

Maelstrom was strong armed into going to the Third Rail Bar by Hancock, and in tow was a reluctant Nick Valentine. He had changed out of the Silver Shroud costume and was again traveling incognito as a drifter/settler.

Malcolm had broken away from John and Nick to let them catch up and snuck off into the back VIP lounge.

That's when Malcolm met Robert Joseph MacCready, and had an interesting encounter with some Gunners.

They seemed to be hassling MacCready, and he seemed to be really tensely trying to avoid getting in a fight. Trying to make himself seem as intimidating as possible.

His posture and tone practically screaming 'won't go down without a fight'. For all that he had squared his shoulders and stood straight backed, he was still only about 5' 4" and was probably only just north of 130 pounds of wiry muscle.

Malcolm, not wanting the confrontation to result in blows, decided to even the odds. He helpfully stood between the two Gunners and the lone sniper, angled more towards MacCready's side.

He didn't say anything, choosing instead just to loom menacingly. Using his advanced height and build to his full advantage.

The Gunners eyed him warily and both muttered expletives under their collective breaths as they stormed out of the bar.

Malcolm turned to MacCready, "You alright?"

MacCready huffed, "I had that handled, but thanks anyway. Look: if your looking for a friend, or to preach to someone about Atom, you got the wrong guy; but if your looking to hire an extra gun, I'm your man."

Malcolm considered for a moment, "How much do you charge?"

"250 caps, upfront. No haggling ."

"Everything's negotiable, hows about 200 caps?"

"Alright fine. You talked me into it… how can I be sure this won't end with you putting a bullet in my back?"

"You only have my word, as I only have yours."

MacCready nodded, "Well then, that's alright. You've hired yourself an extra gun, boss. You point, I shoot."

* * *

' _Shit.'_ Malcolm belatedly realized, two days later, and after a few raider attacks dealt with, and a few feral ghouls dispatched, ' _I didn't introduce myself to MacCready,_ _ **why am I so bad at this?**_ '

MacCready had opened up about his time with the Gunners and needing help with Fentlock and Barnes, and of course Malcolm helped him.

MacCready didn't seem to believe his good fortune, "Man, boss thanks for helping me, that ought to get the Gunner's off my back." Then MacCready gave back the 200 cap hiring fee, to make them even, because he didn't like debts.

"Glad I could help," Malcolm said, secretly wondering exactly how someone introduces themselves to somebody that they had already been traveling with for two days. _**Why**_ _is he still so bad at this?_

 _Well...when they first met, he'd said he wasn't looking for a friend. So that's why it didn't make sense to introduce… Who was he kidding, he was just horrible at this._

Then Malcolm learned about Duncan's illness , and the next thing they knew they were storming Med-Tec. Searching for the cure, finding the cure.

MacCready was over the moon when Malcolm handed him the cure, he looked absolutely floored. He asked, with voice still tinged with awe, "Last favor, promise. Help me get this to Daisy over in Goodneighbor. With her caravan connections, she's the only one I trust to get this to Duncan in time."

They blazed a trail to Goodneighbor, and got the medicine underway.

"This has been a crazy few days boss, I...I don't even know how I'll ever begin to repay you."

"You don't have to, I'm just glad to have helped."

"How...how are you for real?" He hummed thoughtfully, "At least… Let me give you this, because I always settle my debts."

He handed Malcolm a little carved and painted toy soldier, and was told the sad story about Lucy. How he'd told her he was a soldier, and how she'd carved it for him.

He told Malcolm how he, Duncan, and Lucy had been attacked, and how he had only managed to barely get away with Duncan when the ferals got the drop on them.

"Don't lose it, okay?"

"I'll be sure to keep it safe."

MacCready chuckled, "I'll stick with you as long as you'll have me boss; have your back."

Malcolm shrugged, "Well...I've got to stop by my home base, and sure could use the company."

"Oh absolutely boss, count me in."

* * *

It was when they were first in view of Sanctuary, when MacCready took in the completed fortifications and watchtowers off in the distance through his binoculars, "Wow, you live there? Pretty sweet digs."

MacCready lowered his binoculars and they continued towards Sanctuary.

Malcolm nodded, "It has been built up rather well, over the last month."

MacCready chuckled, "Yeah I heard tell that the Minutemen's new General lives here, and I believe it...did you know he took back Fort Hagen? Or 'The Castle' as it's better known, which was the Minutemen's old home base."

"I know that, yeah."

"Man, have you met the General? Because, I heard he was really _something…_ they call him General Storm, I think…Which is such an awesome name."

Malcolm chuckled, "Conjures a certain image I suppose," Malcolm agreed, thinking that maybe MacCready might not actually register that he _was_ the General if he introduced himself by his actual name. Aloud, he continued, "General 'Storm' Germaine, yeah, you _**could**_ say I'm familiar with 'im."

"No way," he surveills Malcolm's face, "You actually do know him. Wow, you have to introduce me!" MacCready was practically bouncing with excitement, "Maybe he might even give me a job stationed at one of those watchtowers!"

"Good place to station a skilled sharpshooter." Malcolm nodded.

"You…" MacCready paused, "You'll put in a good word for me?"

"If you're serious about wanting the job, It's as good as yours." Malcolm chuckles, "Consider yourself introduced to the General too."

"Wow...you really mean that. Like, really actually. You must be on really good terms with the General?"

Malcolm was prevented from responding by a happy shout from the camp, "Mr. Garvey, Code One Eleven ! I repeat, Code One Eleven!"

MacCready turned to Malcolm, "That a good thing?"

"Yep, you'll see."

Preston came running out of the gate, "Glad to see you," he called out happily as he ran up to Malcolm, he indicated MacCready with a tilt of his head, "Who's your friend?"

Malcolm smiled, "Robert Joseph MacCready, self-taught sniper. Perfect candidate for a watchtower position."

Preston gave MacCready a considerate look, "Nice to meet you, I'm Preston Garvey, the General's second-in-command."

MacCready grinned, "Wow, what a greeting. Next thing I know, I'll be meeting with the General himself!" MacCready laughed nervously, "Probably should get washed up, make the best first impression...why are you looking at me like that?"

Preston snickered, "Malcolm, you… still?"

"WHAT. I told you, I am just, _hopeless_. It was **two days** after I started traveling with him before I even realized."

MacCready looked back and forth between them, "Realized what?"

Preston looked at Malcolm, "You want to tell him now?"

MacCready sighed, "Tell me what?"

Malcolm took in a deep breath, "Hi, I'm General Maelstrom Germaine."

MacCready gasped, "You… YOU'RE." MacCready seemed struck speechless.

Preston chuckled, "General, I got to say, I sort of really love the reactions you get. _**Never**_ learn to properly introduce yourself, this is absolutely _**priceless**_."

-end chapter-

 _ **Authors note:**_ _Malcolm will get around to introducing himself properly in the future, but he's not going to always to be believed, poor kid._


	5. The Realizations

**Chapter Five: The Realizations**

MacCready was toured around the settlement, seemingly in a daze. The look of wonder and disbelief stirring up anew every time he caught a glimpse of Malcolm, now in his full official Minutemen General uniform.

The settlers all had nothing but the highest praises and welcomes to say to Malcolm as he walked past, and he introduced MacCready to quite a few settlers and a handful of the Minutemen.

It all went by in a sort of confusing blur for MacCready though, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his traveling partner for the last two days had been _the General of the Minutemen._

When he was sat down around a cooking fire, he finally found his voice again, " _Boss."_ He practically sobbed, "It meant so much, all you did, before. I got the feeling you genuinely care about what happens to me… but your help…"

Tears began to flow from MacCready's eyes and he hastily wiped them away, "Knowing now just how much you already have to deal with, the world's weight on your shoulders...and you were still willing to lend me a shoulder to lean on."

MacCready choked on a sob, but then continued, "What— what in the world did you even see in me that made me worth your time?"

Malcolm put a reassuring arm around MacCready's shoulders, "Somebody who I wanted to help; thought you at least needed a good reason to get out of Goodneighbor and away from those Gunners, figured I'd start with that and figure it out from there."

MacCready leaned against Malcolm, softly he said, "I… want you to know, I would die for you. If it came down to it… and I know without even asking that you'd do the same."

"Let's hope it never comes to that."

"Yeah." MacCready sighed, "I— cards on the table Mal…" he moved so he was sitting across from Malcolm, "I… I am really terrible at this, but… I feel very strongly about you… being with you has made me realize; I never want to be alone again."

MacCready blushed a crimson red upon finishing the statement, and ducked his head. He seemed to be bracing himself for disappointment or rejection.

Malcolm blinked rapidly, "Are… you saying, what I think you're saying? You feel _that_ strongly about me?"

MacCready all but whined, "Yes, please don't hate me."

Malcolm shifted so he knelt in front of the sitting MacCready, "Cards on the table; Even though I've only known you for two days, I've seen into your character and learned a lot about you. I, in whatever capacity you'll have me, would love to become a part of your life."

MacCready leapt into Malcolm's arms, "I keep saying this, but… how are you even real?"

Malcolm enveloped MacCready in his arms, "Everyone in the Commonwealth has lost something, I was frozen and lost my whole world in what felt like an instant. I think I've spent every moment since then fighting to help as many good people as possible to hold on to whatever they have."

"I… it's almost like you were thawed out, just for me." MacCready marveled, "Here I am, just taking and taking… how could I ever deserve you?"

Malcolm hugged MacCready tighter, "By reminding me that I need to take care of myself sometimes, even as you help me help others…" Malcolm pulled away and looked MacCready in the eyes, "By being by my side, and trusting I'll be by yours in return."

" _ **Yes."**_ MacCready exhaled, near breathlessly, "I'll be by your side, until the day I die."

Malcolm smiled, "Well then, Robert Joseph MacCready. Will you marry me?"

MacCready pulled Malcolm into a passionate kiss, whispering "Yes, yes, a _million_ times _**yes**_." During his various exhales, " _I love you."_

* * *

Malcolm showed MacCready his home and introduced him to Cogsworth and Dogmeat.

MacCready seemed suitably impressed, "You have a Mr. Handy as a butler, you never run out of surprises do you?"

Malcolm shrugged, "Just being myself has seemingly become quite the oddity, according to Nick Valentine anyway, he said it was my; 'help thy fellow man' pre-war values, when I rescued him from Skinny Malone."

MacCready hummed in thought, "Isn't Nick Valentine that detective that lives in Diamond City?"

"The very same, I'm going to go on my rounds of the settlements in three days. I'm planning to swing by his office afterwards, to see if he has any cases he needs backup on."

MacCready blinked at him, "Playing detective in your free time, huh? Anywhere else you help out when you're not the General of the Minutemen?"

"Well, when you were in Goodneighbor, you might've heard tell about a certain strange man going around fighting crime as the Silver Shroud?"

MacCready gaped at him, " _ **Of course**_ that was you! Do… you still have the costume with you?"

Malcolm fished the lovingly folded costume out of its dedicated pouch of his satchel. "Behold, the Silver Shroud!"

"You are such a nerd."

"Yeah, but I'm your nerd." Malcolm said with a beaming grin, causing MacCready to blush. "Kent Connolly over in the Memory Den in Goodneighbor broadcasts the old radio serials, he gave me the idea to find the costume over at Hubris Comics."

MacCready took the costume up into his arms, "Did it come lined with ballistic weave… or, no that was you that did that, wasn't it?"

"Guilty as charged."

"You're a _massive_ dork, and I love that about you. Did you even do the Silver Shroud voice?"

"Halt, evil doers!" Malcolm said, striking a dramatic pose, "Death has come for you, and I am its Shroud!"

"You sound exactly like the old radio broadcasts, wow. That's uncanny."

"Well being the General 24/7 would be absolutely _**exhausting**_. I already have to dress like a drifter in order to travel incognito."

"The price of fame, huh?"

"I suppose so…didn't really think I'd ever have to travel as someone other than myself..."

There was a pregnant pause, and Malcolm sighed deeply, "I've...got to go check on something, shouldn't be too long I promise."

"By yourself?"

"Don't worry, I won't be leaving Sanctuary, not without you. Promise. Only going on a walk… to clear my head."

MacCready's stomach lurched, maybe Malcolm was having second thoughts about their earlier jump to commitment? They had only known each other two days after all, and Malcolm clearly could net himself anyone in the Commonwealth.

Certainly could do better than an ex-Gunner who'd done nothing but ask favors, and take from this generous, giving man.

However, Malcolm silenced these doubts with a parting kiss, "Don't hesitate to track me down if I'm needed, alright?"

"Okay, if you're sure. I love you."

"And I love you as well."

And MacCready watched Malcolm walk up a hill, and out of view.

Over the next half-hour the creeping doubts niggled away at his self-worth, even as Cogsworth went about cheerily chatting to himself about how nice it was that ' _sir was adding to the household.'._

Cogsworth mused, "Courtship was a little quicker than I would have ever had guessed, given what the master was like before all this war business...and being cryogenically frozen all that time."

MacCready coughed to get Cogsworth's attention, "Uh, Cogsworth?"

"Yes sir?"

"What was Malcolm like...before the war?"

"Oh, sir was frightfully shy, basically the textbook definition of 'introverted'! Sure he had those comic book convention sorts to chat with, but I would term them as associates, rather than friends."

"Really?"

"You'd never know it now, what with how much he helps and talks to almost everyone these days, but yes, Mr. Germaine hardly spoke to anyone outside his family… and maybe the occasional chat with a coworker." Cogsworth made a considerate humming noise, "He knew practically none of his neighbors of Sanctuary Hills, other than exchanging pleasant hellos!"

"What did he do with his spare time?"

"Oh sir had so many creative hobbies! He sang most beautifully about the house, though never outside of it, as far as I know. Has a really keen musical ear, pitch perfect. Oh, and his wonderful _sketches_. Masterpieces, if you want my humble opinion."

"Sketches?"

The Mr. Handy unit whirred in excitement as he gathered up a box filled with yellowed crumbled-edged sheets of loose sketchbook paper.

"Rather worse for the wear, I'm afraid. 200 years will do that unfortunately, I did my best to maintain them for Mr. Germaine's sake. Come to think of it, I haven't told him that I still have these!"

"Can...can I see?"

"Well of course sir!"

The first drawing was of Malcolm's house as it had looked before the bombs dropped, all four sides depicted on the four respective corners.

The second drawing was of various different types of colorful flowers that MacCready had only ever seen on old crumbling pre-war billboards or ads. Never growing in the wild.

The third sketch was of a family, a mother and a father… Malcolm's mother and father, with a much younger Malcolm, seemingly doubled, front and center. Pinned to the drawing was the same image, but as a photograph.

MacCready pointed at the two children, "Uh. Am I seeing double?"

"No, sir had a twin brother, Machiavelli Germaine, though he preferred to be called Mack… they were very close, like two peas in the proverbial pod, he moved away to Bar Harbor about the same time sir moved to Sanctuary… I found it best not to speculate on his current wellbeing."

MacCready nodded, studying the photograph.

"He, was really good at this."

"Indeed, I hope to see Malcolm draw again in the future."

"I'll have to find him some good paper… and pencils too."

"I'm sure he would appreciate that greatly sir."

The fourth sketch was of a Mr. Handy unit that MacCready guessed from context was Cogsworth. The shading and colors indicated that he'd been a shiny chrome.

"Hey here's one of you!"

"Yes indeed, fresh off the 'ol assembly line. Chrome plated and polished to a pristine shine! Not a bad likeness at all, if I do say so myself."

There was some more flowers and a few cartoon looking doodles of animals alongside their more realistic counterparts. Every drawing told of a skill MacCready had to figure took years to master.

All told, there were only 15 pages in total.

Cogsworth sighed, "Those were all I found. But I'm sure sir had full sketchbooks somewhere… probably buried in the attic."

"The attic?"

"Yes, indeed. You see, sir had only just moved to Sanctuary Hills, about two months before the bombs." Cogsworth explained, "He never did get around to unpacking them I think, but alas, I cannot fit through the crawl space. The door is a rectangle, and I am of course rather spherical."

"I… where is the attic door? I could go look for them!"

"Oh marvelous idea," chirped Cogsworth happily, "right this way!"

* * *

There were 12 partially filled sketchbooks, which Cogsworth tutted at, "Sir always started on a new book before finishing his previous book. Bad habit of his I thought, but that leaves us with a lot of paper!"

There was also a box with three different art kits, with crayons colored pencils and cracked pastels. Cogsworth hummed, "I suppose it makes sense the pastels didn't fare the storage well. Not sir's preferred media anyhow, so no great blow there."

Kept in one smaller box were sketch pencils, and in another box, inking pens.

There was a knock on the door, MacCready leapt up, and turned to Cogsworth who had gone to open the door.

Preston Garvey stood at the doorframe, "Hey MacCready… what's all this stuff?"

MacCready grinned, "Your General is quite the artist, did you know?"

Preston whistled low, very impressed. "Not like this, I've seen him sketch maps and plans for walls and watchtowers before. Nothing like this!"

"This was all squirreled away in the attic, that was really more of a crawl space." MacCready, "Cogs and me hope this will be a pleasant surprise for Malcolm."

Preston nodded, "Speaking of the General, where is he?"

MacCready's stomach plummeted, "He said he wasn't leaving Sanctuary without me, he should still be around."

Cogsworth agreed, "Sir said he was going for a walk. He did inform Mr. MacCready that he shouldn't hesitate to; 'track him down' if we should need him before he returns."

Preston considered that for a second, "Cogsworth, could you whistle for Dogmeat?"

"Of course, Mr. Garvey."

Only a minute later Dogmeat was barking at the door, Preston offered up the General's coat for Dogmeat to smell, "Where'd he wander off to boy? Huh? Find the General!"

Dogmeat barked and quickly led them to an open vault door.

The vault was dreary, darkly lit by glowing monitors, and unpleasantly cold.

They passed past dark cryo-pods filled with frozen corpses. The only light was a eerie green from the terminals to the side of every dreary pod. Every screen next to every single pod read the same thing; 'Life Support Status: Failure'.

They all turned a corner and there was Malcolm, sat on the floor, across from the only open pod, with his arms around his knees. He had a haunted look on his face a distant, mile-long stare in his unfocused eyes.

Next to the only opened pod, the screen read; 'Life Support Status: Successfully Revived'.

Malcolm was murmuring, barely audible, " _Why not any other one of them? Why me. Why only me? Why couldn't they_ _ **all**_ _have made it?"_.

MacCready took the General's coat from Preston and slowly approached Malcolm and draped it over his shoulders.

Malcolm hummed in acknowledgment, "Thanks." He muttered in a much clearer but still subdued tone, as he tugged the coat on, "Haven't been back since I woke up here more than a month ago…"

Preston made a mournful noise, "General… I should have realized where you'd headed. I'm sorry sir, for intruding."

Malcolm shook his head, "It's fine actually," he tuned to face MacCready, "Makes it easier to remember I got to count my blessings when three of them are right here." He said, petting Dogmeat.

Both MacCready and Preston blushed a bit at that. Malcolm just laughed weakly as MacCready helped him up from the floor.

Malcolm cleared his throat, "Anyway, what did you guys need me for?"

Preston blinked, "It… it can wait General. If you need more time."

Malcolm chuckled ruefully, "What I need to do is help people. Helps keep my mind occupied."

Preston looked at Malcolm and then shot a concerned look to MacCready. "MacCready has something you ought to see first."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "Alright."


	6. There's More to Life

**Chapter Six: There's More to Life Than Rescuing Settlements,** _ **Preston Garvey**_

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Yeah I KNOW, Preston gets a bad rap, but seriously, you can just get back from like a solid week of saving settlements and Preston will still find a reason to send you somewhere. He learns to be more autonomous though. He get's better._

"My _sketchbooks,_ oh Cogsworth. I can't believe I'd forgotten all about these!" Malcolm paused at the photograph and the accompanying sketch. "Oh, Mack…" he showed Preston the photograph, "My family, mom, dad, and twin brother…. man I miss them." Malcolm sniffed and turned to MacCready and Cogsworth, "Where was all this?"

Cogsworth whirred happy to change the subject to happier things, "Mr. MacCready was kind enough to fetch them from the attic crawl space."

Malcolm turned to MacCready, "Did you happen to see my violin case up there as well?"

"A… what— case?"

Malcolm signaled for them to wait and he charged off and climbed up to retrieve a case that neither Preston nor MacCready had ever seen before.

"Good thing I went with the synthetic horse hair for the bow… and relaxed the wires before I placed into storage. I'm going to see if I can tune it."

Cogsworth seemed positively giddy and explained to Preston and MacCready , "I've heard of well kept antique violins… pre-war, of a similar vintage to what sir's violin is currently. Two hundred years old, and could still be played."

Malcolm fiddled with the knobs, tightening the strings, plucking them to test the tune. When he seemed satisfied he turned to Cogsworth, "How'd the pitch sound?"

"My internal tuner indicates you've not lost your talent for perfect pitch sir!"

Malcolm smiled widely as he placed the bow against the strings and played America's National Anthem from memory.

MacCready was floored, no holotape or record he'd ever heard before held a candle to hearing an actual instrument in person. They were few and far between in the Capital Wasteland and the Commonwealth.

Rarer still, the people who had any notion how to play them.

Malcolm seemed positively giddy, "I gotta show this to everybody here! First stop, the Long's residence. Kyle's going to _love_ this."

Malcolm charged off, energy renewed and smiling from ear to ear.

MacCready and Preston followed closely after him as he practically skipped to the Long's large vegetable garden.

Marcy was the first person he ran into, "Hello Marcy. Have I ever got something special!"

Marcy pointed at the violin, "What's that?"

"A violin." Malcolm replied simply, "It's a musical instrument."

He held the violin aloft, and tucked it dramatically under his chin, placed the bow on the strings. Neither Preston or MacCready recognized the tune, but it was beautiful and it's notes rang across Sanctuary.

Marcy lit up and called out for Jun and Kyle. Jun emerged from the shack with Kyle close behind.

Little Kyle, reminded MacCready of his own little boy Duncan. Far away in the Capital Wastelands, the cure for his illness hopefully well on its way to getting to him.

Kyle was actually bouncing in excitement and clapping with absolute joy.

When Malcolm finished the piece he lowered his violin and bowed theatrically.

Kyle charged up to him, "Wow! What _is_ that, Mr. General, sir? I've never _seen_ anything like it before! I've never _**heard**_ anything like that before!"

Malcolm lowered it for Kyle to get a better view, "It's my violin, from before the war. I'm honestly surprised to have found it in working condition. It's a musical instrument, the strings vibrating cause the sounds. I played a song from a ballet, called 'Swan Lake'."

Jun stepped forward cautiously, obviously a naturally timid man, "It was a very beautiful song General Germaine."

MacCready might have been dazed during his first tour, but he vaguely remembered Malcolm reminding Jun that he; ' _didn't need to call me General Germaine, really— Malcolm is fine'._

By now, the music had drawn in a curious group of Sanctuary residents, all seemingly brimming with their own questions.

Kyle marveled at the instrument, "Can, you play any song on this?"

"I can play a version of pretty much any song. Any song I've heard at least once. It's going to be a bit different because the songs on records and holotapes have multiple instruments; whereas I only have the one."

"Can you please play, 'The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow', Mr. General, sir? It's one of my favorites!"

"That's one of my favorites too Kyle! Of course I'll play it for you!"

Malcolm played the requested song, drawing in even more residents of Sanctuary.

Everyone clapped upon the songs completion, and Malcolm took another theatrical bow.

Malcolm looked over his shoulder at MacCready, and his smile turned bashful. "Still haven't run out of surprises, eh Robert?"

If MacCready hadn't thought he was hopelessly in love _before_ this... He was certainly enraptured now.

-chapter break-

* * *

It had turned out that _**all**_ Preston had wanted to tell Malcolm was that there was reports on increased raider activity out near Fort Hagen, "Really sorry to have bothered you with this, it isn't even that urgent. Honestly, I'd already told them to increase the patrols...but I'd wanted your opinion on what else we should do."

MacCready scoffed, "Guy's barely back home for a day and you already wanna give him reasons to leave?"

Malcolm sighed, "I need a shower and a nap." He said, practically in one long exhale. "Fort Hagen is well supplied," Malcolm said tersely, and then paused and rubbed at his temples, "and more than adequately stationed, don't forget that they have _three_ military checkpoints helping to monitor the courtyard."

"Of… course, General." Preston seemed ashamed at himself with how'd he bothered the General with a very unimportant matter so soon after having returned home.

Malcolm gave Preston a tired smile, "It's good that you're keeping tabs on all this for me. Make sure to have the list of requested supplies ready for me upon my departure. Thank you, lieutenant. I'll check in with you when I'm set to leave in three days time."

"Yes sir, General!"

Malcolm yawned as Preston scurried off to do his regular border patrol.

MacCready looked at Malcolm as he stretched tiredly, "It has been a long couple of days huh?"

"Yeah, the fatigue is really starting settle in, I'm going to take a hot shower—"

"You have heated water?"

Malcolm hummed sleepily, "That's right, set up the water heater myself…. care to join me?" Malcolm finished his sentence with a suggestive smile.

MacCready felt his blood rush south, heat starting to pool in his groin, " _Oh,_ _ **absolutely**_ _."_

MacCready followed Malcolm back to the house, and into the bathroom. The hot water was heavenly, to say nothing of the view.

They held each other close, and kissed. However, it was obvious that Malcolm's energy was flagging from exhaustive traveling and fighting over the past few days.

"'M sorry hon, I really wanted to do more. Honest." Malcolm yawned again, and his eyes half-lidded, "Need to rest first though."

MacCready kissed Malcolm, "I understand babe, been a long crazy month for you. You need your rest… could I lie down beside you?"

"Of course love, you needn't even ask."

"You're so impossibly gorgeous." MacCready marveled, as he laid beside Malcolm in his bed, "That when I wake up and see you again, I'll think I'm still dreaming."

" _Flatterer."_ Malcolm murmured quietly, " _Sweet dreams, my sweet sniper."_

Before MacCready could reply, Malcolm was fast asleep. MacCready followed shortly after.

-chapter break-

* * *

When MacCready awoke, Malcolm had already woken, but was still sat beside him in the bed sketching something.

MacCready stretched and yawned as he woke, Malcolm smiled and said, "Morning, sleepy head."

MacCready looked at the sketchbook, "What are you drawing?"

Malcolm showed him the page, it was a near photorealistic color sketch of MacCready, aiming his signature sniper rifle. "My fiancé. He's quite handsome if I do say so myself."

MacCready laughed, "Fiancé, huh? Sounds fancy… I've heard it before, but I've no idea what it means though?"

Malcolm looked confused, "When two people are engaged but not married, they're fiancé's" at MacCready's odd look Malcom asked, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"I...probably should have checked that the rules for marriage were the same in your time… I'd _thought…_ we were already married?"

"Oh!" Malcolm started, "I probably should have known, what with there being only rudimentary local government at best that marriage was probably declarative." He said laughing at himself, "Back in my time, you needed to have a special ceremony, usually called a wedding, and get a Justice of the Peace, or some other official to officiate the marriage."

MacCready shook his head, "Only understood part of that…"

Malcolm kissed MacCready, "Pre-war traditions, don't really apply. I guess it never occurred to me that would have changed, but it makes sense now that I hear it."

MacCready still looked confused, "So? Are we married _or…_ not?"

Malcolm kissed MacCready deeply, "I apologize, I misspoke earlier. This is a drawing of my _**husband**_. Who I hope understands that I am 210 years out of my time and don't know all the rules yet."

MacCready smiled happily, "Well I'm glad we got that cleared up."

" _I love you."_

" _I love you too."_


	7. Desdemona and the Railroad

**Chapter Seven: Desdemona, the Railroad, and a Detective's Perspective**

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _You might justly wonder, dear reader, just how my sole survivor picks up the trail of the Institute...or why he would feel he needed to. Malcolm's main driving motivation is to help as many people as possible, and the Institute has hurt a lot of people. So, of course they're gonna clash._

 _-chapter break-_

The rounds of the settlements was uneventful in of itself. Plenty of people of the visited settlements didn't really even register MacCready's presence. He found he didn't mind essentially being the General's shadow. All the better to protect him.

When Malcolm swung by Diamond City he helped with a case that ended with him having to take down an _Institute Courser._

He'd not even realized the significance until both Nick and MacCready told him about claiming the Courser chip, "Lots of important Institute data on that boss, could let us know how to defeat the Institute."

Nick had tutted softly, "I'd wondered when you'd capture the attention of the Institute. They're not going to give up easily either."

MacCready seemed wary at that, but said, "Well if anybody could take them down, it's Malcolm."

Malcolm sighed, "Probably should figure out how to contact the Railroad, they're probably equipped to decode this."

Nick smiled ruefully, "Well count me in on that, because I think they're probably be more trusting if you've got me with you. I got to figure the Railroad have been keeping tabs on 'Diamond City's Synth Detective', so I can vouch for you."

Malcolm nodded, "Well then, I suppose it's time for me to follow the Freedom Trail."

MacCready saluted, jokingly, "Wherever you go I follow, boss."

When they followed the Freedom Trail and discovered the password for the terminal in the church was 'Railroad' Malcolm rolled his eyes, "The only worse password they could have possibly gone with is ' _ **password'**_ , Nick. I suppose it was too much to hope that the password would be 'swordfish.'"

Nick chuckled, obviously getting the pre-war reference, "I know doll, but you gotta figure most people in the Commonwealth aren't exactly literate."

Malcolm glanced over at MacCready, "Um… I don't know exactly how to ask this, but how well can you read?"

MacCready seemed flustered and rather embarrassed, "I read comics, back in Little Lamplight. I was doing my best to learn, when the people teaching me weren't really more knowledgeable than I was."

Nick hummed understandingly, "Not too many books, these days...or people teaching. If the Institute hadn't put memories in my head I don't even know how I could have gone about learning how to read from scratch."

Malcolm nodded, "No judgement here Robert, you've got an impressive vocabulary… and stellar sniper skills."

MacCready smiled, and patted his trusty sniper rifle, "At your disposal, boss."

They crept inside of a weird clearing, formerly hidden behind a secret door in the church.

Suddenly bright lights blinded them.

"Halt!" A mysterious woman's voice commanded, "Who goes there, state your purpose?"

Malcolm shielded his eyes, "I'm General Maelstrom Germaine, of the Minutemen. I seek to find the Railroad."

The lights cut, "I'm Desdemona, leader of the Railroad." The red headed woman explained, "And I find it difficult to believe the the _General_ of the Minutemen would have come here."

Malcolm turned to MacCready, "Even _when_ I introduce myself, I can't win."

A strange male voice interjected, a man wearing reflective sunglasses, who had definitely not been standing next to Desdemona before, spoke up, "He's not kidding Dez. This is the Vault Dweller I told you about, the one I'd been tailing."

Malcolm leaned forward, "You! I'd thought I'd seen you following me."

The man smirked, but continued talking to Desdemona, "He killed an _Institute Courser,_ like just a few hours ago. He's got a Courser chip, Dez."

Desdemona scowled, "Tell me _General,_ from what I hear you've only been out of your vault for a little over a month. Do you even know what a synth is?"

At this Malcolm exchanged a glance with MacCready, both stepping aside to let Nick step forward. With a sarcastic tone leaching into a faux gentility, Malcolm turned to Nick, " _ **Gee,**_ Nick. Do _**I**_ know _**any**_ synths… maybe any that might be standing _**right here**_ , in front of the person who _**just asked me that.**_ "

Nick rolled his glowing yellow eyes, but had a soft indulgent smile twitch over his lips.

The mysterious man chuckled, "I did mention that he saved Nick Valentine from Skinny Malone."

Desdemona rolled her eyes, "Would you lay your life down in defense of your fellow man, even if that man was a synth?"

Malcolm stood straight, " _Yes."_ He said seriously, "Synth or not. A life is a life."

MacCready saw Nick shift to stand straighter, Nick faced Desdemona head on, "The kid is dead serious, he went off to rescue me before he was told I was a synth, and I can tell you that when he rescued me _what I was_ didn't even faze 'im." Nick paused to light up a cigarette faux casually, and then continued speaking, "He stormed into vault 114 and took on Skinny Malone and his crew. He even managed to do it _non-lethally,_ if the rescue wasn't impressive enough by itself."

Desdemona turned to the mysterious man, "Deacon, show these men to Tinker Tom, to see what he can make of the Courser chip."

With that the woman stalked off.

The man identified as Deacon sighed, "Sorry about that, she… the Railroad has to be cautious. If the Institute were to discover us… well it wouldn't be pretty."

MacCready huffed, "There's caution, and then there's whatever the hel— heck… that was."

Malcolm sighed deeply, "It's… She's just trying to protect her organization." Suddenly Malcolm looked very tired, "Let's just get the info we need in order to infiltrate the Institute."

Nick placed his left arm on Malcolm's shoulder, "You don't gotta be the one to do everything, doll. You say the word, and me and MacCready will do _all_ the talking."

Malcolm smiled, "I appreciate it Nick. Thanks."

* * *

MacCready didn't really understand how the Railroad placed the relevant transporter data onto Nick Valentine's circuitry, but he felt he didn't really need to.

He did however find great amusement in the codename the Railroad had granted Malcolm, "How did you _**not**_ get the codename 'Charmer'? It was right there!"

Malcolm chuckled, "Well I don't know, _Bullseye,_ I guess Desdemona wasn't particularly charmed by my use of the silent treatment."

They had left the Freedom Trail quite a while ago, planning to head to Sanctuary to get the teleporter plans to Sturges to see what supplies they would need to get it running.

MacCready has seen the codename Bullseye on the Railroad board of available names...and well, what competent sharpshooter turns down that sort of opportunity?

Nick, for his part had narrowly avoided being offered the codename 'Fixer' when Tinker Tom had commented on Nick taking the upload time to do some self-maintenance on his right hand. He had jokingly smiled and had said he preferred 'Gumshoe'.

Nick shook his head, "Still though, the name Whisper isn't what I would have thought you'd get."

Malcolm shrugged, "You can totally ask Cogsworth, pre-war me totally _**would**_ have earned the codename Whisper."

MacCready smirked, "Cogsworth said as much to me back at Sanctuary, it's how I learned about the sketchbooks."

Malcolm smiled, "Thanks for finding those, I hadn't even realized how much I missed drawing. Plus, it reminded me about my violin!"

Nick interjected, "A working violin?"

Malcolm nodded, "Yeah, it's safe back at Sanctuary. Maybe one of these days I'll even play something for you."

Nick grinned, "I look forward to it."

It was a long way to travel to Sanctuary, and they weren't going to make it before night fell. So they all camped out in a run down old storefront.

As they settled in, Malcolm and MacCready started to prepare some food for themselves, and Nick decided to take the opportunity to properly clean the exposed parts of his right hand.

Nick turned to MacCready, "You know, for an ex-Gunner you're not so bad." His easy smile and casually teasing tone spoke of a willingness to completely look past any animosity he might've had previously over having someone he had at first perceived as a mercenary tag along.

MacCready sighed, "I wish I could take all the credit, but honestly…" MacCready pointed at Malcolm, "He's got a lot to do with it."

Malcolm blushed, "You flatter me Robert, but you said so to me yourself that you only _ran_ with them, you never really _were_ a Gunner."

MacCready nodded, "Should have never took up with them in the first place, but the past is the past."

Malcolm hummed in acknowledgment, as he busied himself preparing some noodles with shredded brahmin meat for both himself and MacCready.

MacCready turned to Nick, "So… I noticed earlier, you called Malcolm… _**doll**_?"

Both Nick and Malcolm chuckled. Malcolm smiled mysteriously, "It's a bit of a story, you want to tell it Nick?"

Nick nodded, "Sure, it makes for an interesting campfire story."

Nick angled himself to face MacCready, "I'd been given a case, find this girl Marreen. Turns out she wasn't missing, so much as Skinny Malone's new flame."

MacCready leaned forward with interest, " _The gangster?"_

Nick chuckled, "The very same. Anyway, I got caught by him, and he had held me captive for two weeks. The guard posted to me that day was taunting me, saying how it was only a matter of time before Skinny decides it's not worth having me around, and that I'd never see the outside of that vault again. Then suddenly, the guard taunting me slumps over unconscious."

Nick paused to laugh and to light a cigarette, "Then this, blur of motion flys past the window, I call out; 'Hey you, if you're here to rescue me, you've got three minutes to hack that terminal.' and the door was open before I finished my sentence!"

MacCready slapped his knee and laughed, "Malcolm's got a real gift with the terminals." He agreed, "Fastest I think I've ever seen."

Nick nodded, "Of course I have no idea why this stranger would want to rescue me, so I'm a little wary. When I asked him why he just handed me a packet of cigarettes and a note my secretary Ellie gave him to give to me."

Nick shot an apologetic look at Malcolm, "I… honestly thought you were a mercenary Ellie hired… wondered how many caps she'd had to pay. Then I noticed that you'd not killed any of Skinny Malone's guys, and I re-evaluated you right then. Guessed from the Pip Boy you were a vault dweller, but I really couldn't get much of a read on you."

Malcolm shrugged as he dished out a bowl of noodles for MacCready, "Not a lot of context for you to work with, at least Preston had the 'luxury' of seeing my vault almost immediately after meeting me. He compared my situation to being similar to a pre-war ghoul."

Nick smiled, "Yeah, once I'd learned the cryogenically frozen bit, I initially put down your kindness to pre-war values...but you continued to surprise me. I mean, I'd heard the Minutemen we're making a comeback before I managed to get myself captured for two weeks, and then next thing I know I learned the guy rescuing me was their _new General._ "

Nick shakes his head, "We were walking back to my office in Diamond City, and I'm agreeing with him jokingly saying about how he's become 'quite the charmer'... and well, the original Nick Valentine has this— I suppose it's almost what you would call a vocal tick— when I agreed with him I said 'That you have doll.' and even though Malcolm had been nothing but civil in the short time I'd known him I honestly feared some sort of... retaliation?"

Malcolm chuckled, "He called me doll before he learned my actual name."

Nick smiled, "Ellie sent you to help me before she realized she never even asked you your name too. You really were awful at introducing yourself, I asked Piper and she still thinks you're just some random vault dweller turned drifter."

Malcolm laughed, "I don't want to have to be _interviewed._ "

"Fair enough."

MacCready shifted to get more comfortable, but something dug into his back, he pulled at it, "Well, you managed to introduce yourself to the Railroad…" MacCready dug out a strange metal block shaped device, "What's this?"

Malcolm gasped, "An… old metronome? Wait a sec…" Malcolm consulted the map on his Pip Boy, "Hey Nick, how familiar was pre-war Nick Valentine with the storefronts in this area?"

Nick shrugged, "Not very, from what I recall he was more focused on the job he'd moved here from Chicago to help with. Why?"

Malcolm stood and started rooting around the storefront, "Because… if that metronome is any indication, we've stumbled across an old music shop."

MacCready glanced around at the loose papers on the ground, with what looked to be… MacCready held up a sheet for Nick to look at, "I think… this is sheet music right?"

Nick takes the paper and nods, "That it is."

Malcolm had wandered somewhere out of sight but they could still hear him rooting around in the back.

Nick leaned back towards the sound and called out, "Looking for stuff for your violin?"

Malcolm called back, "Might as well. Already found some replacement strings, synthetic horsehair for my bow… and, ooh jackpot!"

"What?" Both Nick and MacCready asked in near unison.

Malcolm emerged from a backroom, with a small violin case in one hand and a regular sized one in the other, "A child's violin, and another regular one." Malcolm set the cases down, and started fiddling with the strings, "There are other instruments back there too, but I only know how to play the violin."

Nick chuckled, "Couldn't wait for us to get back to Sanctuary before you played me that song, eh doll?"

Malcolm smiled brightly, plucking the strings to check the tune, "What can I say?" He jokes sarcastically, "I'm astoundingly impatient."

Malcolm played two songs, one request for both Nick and MacCready, before they all decided to call it a night.

Nick took a full night watch, because he didn't need to sleep, so he wished Malcolm and MacCready a goodnight as they both settled in to sleep.

-chapter end-

 _ **Author's Note**_ _: Malcolm actually managed to introduce himself...and of course the first time he does he's not believed. Poor thing._


	8. Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel

_**Author's Note:**_ _I would argue that your character in Fallout 4 doesn't really need a personal reason to take on the Institute, just seeing how many lives they've destroyed would be enough. Heck, their treatment of Synths would be enough in my book. Anywho, here Malcolm finally interacts with the Brotherhood of Steel... and yes, he is showing off._

 **Chapter Eight: Danse of The Brotherhood of Steel**

When they arrived back in Sanctuary, the call of 'Code One Eleven' rang out excitedly. Preston Garvey welcomed the General Back first, then MacCready. He seemed a little unnerved by Nick however.

"So you're an Institute synth?" Preston asked warily.

Nick vented an unnecessary breath, "They made me, but I've been independent of them for a full century. They threw me out."

Preston seemed unsure about that answer, "I don't think I've ever met a synth that wasn't a Gen 1 or 2 before, other than Sturges… though I suppose I'd never know it with the other Gen 3's."

Nick nodded, "I figure I'm some prototype between Gen 2 and Gen 3… a Gen 2.5, if I had to put a label on it."

Preston shifted his weight nervously, "The General said something about you having... information?"

Malcolm, who had gone off and busied himself at placing away the various clutter he had been carrying, wasn't there to mitigate between Nick and Preston.

So MacCready decided to throw his two caps in. "Preston, he's working to _help_ your General, alright? We're going to talk to Sturges. I know the way, so I can take it from here."

Preston nodded and even gave a slight salute, "Roger that, I'm going to go do my rounds of Sanctuaries defenses." With that, Preston marched off towards the gate.

Nick cycled another unnecessary round of air and simulated a sigh, "Thanks MacCready."

MacCready nodded, "It's no problem, I know you could have held your own, but—"

Nick waived away the explanation, and just smiled in response. "Just get me to that Sturges fellow, I want to offload this data as soon a possible."

* * *

The teleporter was going to be a long ordeal, according to Malcolm, collecting the necessary parts and equipment would be difficult enough in a pre-war Boston, let alone a post-war one.

Just finding the required MRI scanner parts had been a near fiasco, one that ate up nearly a week of scouting various medical facilities, but they did eventually find one.

Even that hadn't been the worst part. No, that had been at the beginning of the week, that being their encounter with the Brotherhood of Steel.

It all started with a distress beacon, that of course Malcolm felt the need to answer. He managed to near-single handedly rescue a pinned down half squad of Brotherhood Soldiers and their squire.

MacCready hadn't entered the building, choosing instead to snipe at opportune targets from a rooftop vantage point across the street.

He'd never seen someone fight so gracefully, and _since_ _when did Malcolm have a actual steel sword?_

MacCready wondered how much of the gymnastics Malcolm was flying through were strictly necessary, and how much of it was to impress the baffled BOS soldiers.

When he saw Malcolm managing to kick two feral ghouls in the head with a flying split-kick he snorted to himself. ' _Showoff'._

When the feral ghouls had all been cleared from the building, MacCready made his way down to join back up with Malcolm.

He arrived just in time to hear the Paladin reluctantly thanking Malcolm, "Been a while since I've seen a civilian so capable in battle, let alone one capable of taking orders."

MacCready resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if Malcolm had _followed_ any of the orders as anything more than tactical suggestions he'd eat his hat.

Malcolm greeted him with a wave, "I'll take that as a complement. MacCready, this is Paladin Danse." He said gesturing over his shoulder at the Paladin he'd been talking to.

The BOS soldier cast a glance at MacCready, "Your sniper associate, I take it?"

Malcolm grinned, "The very same."

MacCready warily nodded, curtly he said, "Hi, you're lucky we happened to be passing."

Paladin Danse shifted almost uncomfortably, "Yes, well it was indeed fortunate. For Knight Rhys especially."

Another BOS soldier nodded, from where he sat nursing a bevy of recently stimmed injuries. "Thought I was a goner for a bit there if I'm honest."

Malcolm just smiled, "Right place, right time and all that."

Paladin Danse coughed, "Indeed. The Brotherhood is very grateful for your assistance in this matter civilians."

MacCready shot a look at Danse, "Why do you keep calling us that, you know our names—" MacCready suddenly cut a look towards Malcolm, who had started laughing behind his clasped hands. "You are impossible, boss. I hope you know that."

Malcolm shook his head, still laughing, "You think I'm not well aware of that?"

Scribe Haylen tilted her head at the both of them, she then turned and addressed Malcolm, "What's so funny?"

Malcolm managed to reduce his laughter to just an amused smile, "Let me take this opportunity to introduce myself; I'm General Maelstrom 'Storm' Germaine, of the Minutemen."

Paladin Danse snapped to a sort of attention, "You're General Storm?" He said, evaluating Malcolm more closely.

Malcolm shrugged, "I know I don't look it now, but I've got the uniform in my pack so I can travel the Commonwealth incognito."

Knight Rhys huffed out a breath, "I'd heard that the new General of the reformed Minutemen was something else, I'll say I'm impressed."

Scribe Haylen pointed out the Pip Boy on Malcolm's arm, "He's even a vault dweller like the reports said."

MacCready scoffed, "Are we done here boss?" He asked Malcolm, who had been largely amused by the BOS squadron's discussion.

Malcolm turned to Danse, "I'm sorry to say I won't be joining the Brotherhood anytime soon, plate's already a bit full at the moment."

Paladin Danse nodded curtly, "I understand, the Minutemen are a worthy force for the good of the Commonwealth, civil— I mean, General Germaine. Hopefully the Minutemen will see fit to ally with the Brotherhood sometime in the future.

Malcolm didn't point out that the Brotherhood might have a fancy flying ship and souped up power armor, but they were severely lacking in manpower.

In fact, if the latest recon reports of the various Minutemen runners had any credence, the Minutemen had about three to four times more men at arms than the local chapter of the Brotherhood could muster.

Instead Malcolm just shook Paladin Danse's offered hand, "Well, we'll see."

MacCready could read between the lines, Malcolm would never work with the Brotherhood as they were currently. Not until they distinguished between feral and non-feral ghouls. Not until they weren't indiscriminately killing escaped Institute synths.

To MacCready he said, "Alright, let's head back out, I want to make good time today."

MacCready nodded, knowing that Malcolm wanted to make it to Sanctuary as soon as possible.

They turned away from the Brotherhood, little knowing that when they next met Danse it would be to save his life again.

-chapter end-

 _ **Authors Note:**_ _Blind Betrayal changes a lot of things for poor Danse. However, I would argue that finding out he's a synth is the only thing tha'd convince him that Synths are more than just machines that simulate feelings. Lucky for him, Malcolm doesn't know how not to help...which is also going to be an issue later on._


	9. May We Have This Danse

_**Author's Note**_ _: I hope it's painfully obvious that the only times Malcolm remembers to take care of himself are when other people remind him too, and even then he only actually listens when it's framed like he's doing it for someone else... (aka MacCready). Also, Malcolm helps other people so he doesn't have to ruminate over his own problems, one wonders how much longer he can keep that up?_

 **Chapter Nine: May We Have This Danse**

Construction on the teleporter was going as smoothly as could be expected, and Malcolm seemed content with their rate of progress.

MacCready had picked up a letter on their way past Goodneighbor, it had been delivered from the Capital Wasteland by a passing caravan.

He read the letter multiple times, feeling waves of relief over the news that Duncan was well on the road to recovery.

All the way to Sanctuary he felt like he was floating on air, and he could hardly stop a goofy grin from spreading on his face wherever he was sure nobody but Malcolm could see him.

MacCready had told Malcolm that he would send for Duncan as soon as he could arrange reasonably safe travel on an armored caravan.

Malcolm had grinned from ear to ear and said he was putting up the caps to pay for whatever MacCready needed to make it happen. "Money's no object." He'd said easily, "Safe travel for Duncan is priority one."

MacCready's heart swelled with joy, sure that his little boy would positively _adore_ Malcolm.

Malcolm certainly had a soft spot for kids, because when they had returned to Sanctuary, Malcolm had presented a fully repaired and polished child's violin to an exuberant Kyle as a birthday present.

Marcy and Jun both looked absolutely _floored._

The happy occasion was a little sullied by Preston rushing in, but at least it was a more urgent matter than distant murmurings of increased raider activity, "General, sorry to interrupt!" He said slightly out of breath, "But there's a woman at the gate identifying herself as Scribe Haylen from the Brotherhood of Steel, and she asked after you specifically. Said to tell you it was an emergency."

Malcolm quirked an eyebrow, "I only spoke to her a week ago, I wonder what could have happened since then?"

A lot, apparently.

* * *

Malcolm busied himself suiting up with all sorts of armaments, "So Danse is a synth." He huffed incredulously, "Lemme guess, the Brotherhood want him dead." He didn't make it a question.

Haylen nodded, clearly worried. "We'd intercepted a list of synths from the Institute, apparently Paladin Danse was actually a synth named M7-97, I managed to warn him before the Brotherhood could mobilize a response. He's a good man General. Please, can you help him?"

Malcolm shot a look at MacCready, who sighed, "It's your call boss."

Malcolm turned to Haylen, "Any idea where he might have holed up?"

Haylen told them about an old bunker, called Listening Post Bravo, that Danse had been scouting as a possible Brotherhood location, but that was the only place she could possibly think of.

Malcolm sighed deeply, "MacCready, you're not going to like this."

MacCready adjusted his rifle strap, "You're not leaving me behind boss." He said simply.

Malcolm smiled, "I would never, I was just gonna say that we're definitely saving Danse."

"I figured," he groaned, "I would ask how you could possibly risk your neck for someone you barely know, but that would make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"

Malcolm nodded, "Get Nick, I want him with us on this, if there's anyone I know who's going to be able to sympathize with Danse, it's him."

MacCready gave a sharp nod and went off to retrieve Nick.

Haylen seemed near tears, "Thank you General."

Malcolm just shrugged off the thanks, "You going to wait here for us?"

Haylen seemed nervous as she replied, "I'm no longer Brotherhood, I defected… because I had my qualms with some of their political views from the start, but this was the cap that broke the brahmin's back."

Malcolm gave a noise of understanding, "Probably best for you to stay here then, talk to Preston Garvey, I think you'd make prime Minuteman material."

She blinked at him, "You're serious?"

"You got morals, a conscience, and your loyalties lie with people and not lauded 'ideals'. Plus, unless you forget I did briefly see you in action, we could always use competent field medics."

MacCready had arrived back with Nick, who seemed grimly determined, "Alrighty doll, MacCready here tells me that you require a synth whisperer?"

Malcolm smiled ruefully, "One of the Brotherhood Paladins turned out to be a synth, we need to find him before they do and get him to safety. Name of Paladin Danse, or M7-97 according to the Institute records the Brotherhood cracked… any questions?"

Nick shook his head, "I've run into Paladin Danse before actually, practically lived for the Brotherhood. This has gotta be hitting him hard."

Malcolm seemed taken aback a little, "So he'll know you? That's good, great actually. Come on, no time to lose."

Malcolm marched off with Nick and MacCready hot on his heels.

* * *

Finding Danse turned out to be the easiest part, what with the lead on his possible location from Haylen.

The hardest part was convincing former Paladin Danse that he wasn't just a machine that deserved to be dispatched. Malcolm was still working on getting him to leave the bunker, glad that he'd thought to station MacCready in a sniper's nest on the roof of the bunker to keep a lookout.

"I'm not even real, I was programmed! I'm not even sure how many of these memories are things I actually experienced, anything before I joined up with the Brotherhood is questionable at best."

The most shocking part about this outpouring of existential angst was that Danse was delivering it while accepting a supportive arm across his back from Nick.

In fact, he had apologized to Nick at least three times before getting to his current line of thought, "How do I even, know what parts of my personality are… me?"

Nick patted his back, "It's not easy, lemme tell you. What I've come to conclude over 100 years of having to contend with the same question is this; You are your actions, if nothing else. You can own those. You achieved them."

Danse eyed Nick sadly, "I wonder if… I was based off a real person, like you were, in order to replace them without my even being aware of the fact. Was Danse someone who had friends and family?"

Danse buried his head in his hands, "Heck, I only have one name. I'd always put that down to the fact that surnames weren't that common in Rivet City anyway, and me being an orphan… but now I wonder if it was because nobody at the Institute cared to _give_ me two names."

Malcolm sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Danse, "Regardless of all of that, I know you cared for your Brothers and Sisters, would have laid your life down for them. Haylen knows that too. That's why after she warned you she defected from the Brotherhood, it's because she knew there was no way that the current leadership would be able to overlook your...origins."

Danse seemed taken aback, "Haylen defected? But. That means she's in danger of retaliation from the Brotherhood!"

Nick scoffed, "What an organization, where the only way to leave puts you in danger of retaliation; any wonder why recruitment is down?"

Malcolm leveled a reassuring look at Danse, "She's at Sanctuary, under the protection of the Minutemen. She was more worried about you than herself."

Danse leaned into Nick as he sighed in relief, "Thank you, General Germaine. Scribe… I suppose she's not a scribe anymore— Haylen was my responsibility as a Paladin, and I've grown rather fond of her in the time I've known her."

Nick chuckled, "That's how you know you're more than a machine. You think, and feel."

Danse frowned, "So do you. I'm sorry, I didn't think anything created in a lab… was capable of sentience, I cannot even begin to apologize enough for what I've said in the past."

"It's in the past Danse, I'm willing to forgive it." Nick said easily, "After all, I know from experience how confusing it is to be human one moment and then discovering you're a synth the next." Nick brought up his slightly creaky metallic right hand, "Even with the obvious metal parts it still took a while to accept what I was."

Danse observed the hand, "You...uh not that I want to tell you your business, but the left-most caster joint is misaligned and is hitching the main joists. Probably needs a complete disassembly to oil between the contact points too."

Nick scrutinized his hand, "So that's what's been bugging me recently." Nick smiled, "Learn some neat tricks modding power armor up on that floating ship huh?"

Malcolm coughed, "As lovely as this bonding session is, and it is." Nick rolled his eyes at that but Malcolm continued, "We should get Danse to Sanctuary ASAP, before the Brotherhood thinks of looking here."

Danse stood stiffly, shedding his holotags. "Thank you, both of you. I assume your sniper associate is nested up top?"

"MacCready is indeed up in the sniper's nest, guarding the courtyard."

Danse smiled weakly at that, "Alright then General, lead the way."

* * *

MacCready joined them when they gained sufficient distance from the bunker.

"So you really only have the one name?" He asked bluntly, "Huh, hey maybe we can take this opportunity to brainstorm some possibilities."

Danse seemed confused, "Possibilities for _what?"_

MacCready laughed, "A name, silly! Do you feel like Danse is more a last name or a first name?"

Danse mulled this over, "I suppose a last name, as it has always been paired with my...previous ranking of the Brotherhood."

MacCready nodded, "I get you, like most people call me MacCready, my first name is Robert but only people who know me call me that… well, that or RJ."

Danse tilted his head questioningly, "RJ? But your initials are RM?"

Malcolm laughed, "He's got a middle name, Robert Joseph MacCready, I have a middle name too."

MacCready startled, "You do? How'd that never come up before, what is it?"

"Marshall." He took out his silver lighter, "I sort of omitted that when I told Nick what my full name technically was."

Danse scrunched his face, "What do you mean _technically_?"

"I come from a long line of Maelstrom Germaine's so my official full name is 'Maelstrom Marshall Germaine IV.'"

MacCready blanched, then laughed, "Man that sounds super pretentious."

Malcolm rolled his eyes, "You think I don't know that?"

Nick piped up, "Nick changed his name to better fit into pre-war America. His name was Nikolai Valentino, but Italian immigrants weren't exactly popular back in the day."

Danse mulled all this over, "I… don't know. It feels odd somehow? Naming myself, I mean."

Malcolm nodded, "Feels like something you should have had at the start huh?"

"Yes, exactly."

Malcolm shrugged, "Well I wasn't born being named Malcolm, but I prefer it. My twin brother… Mack, didn't go by his name 'Machiavelli' either."

Nick whirred in surprise, "You have...had— a twin brother?"

Malcolm nodded sadly, "Yeah last I saw him was three months before the bombs dropped, as far as I figure he should have been in Bar Harbor when it happened...which I understand is now called Far Harbor…"

There was a lull in the conversation and they walked in silence for a bit, until Danse sighed deeply, "So, MacCready… that idea you had about brainstorming a name for me… you have any ideas?"

MacCready hummed in thought, "I've been mulling it over, trying to think of a name that would pair well with 'Danse' as a last name, but it makes every name sound like an odd order? Like, for example: Alex Danse, sounds like I'm ordering someone named Alex to _dance."_

Danse considered this, "I can see your point… might actually work better as a first name?"

Malcolm shook his head, "You can just have the one name, you can ask Nick if you don't believe me, but a lot of pre-war celebrities went by just one name, just find another title to pair it with."

Nick chuckled agreeing, "Like Cher, or Madonna."

Malcolm smiled, "You could always join the Minutemen," He suggested slyly, "With it's expansion I could use some more people with military experience… like another Lieutenant?"

Danse blinked in disbelief, "I… would your men even accept a former Brotherhood of Steel member as their direct superior?"

Malcolm's smile looked mischievous, "As long as they know you answer to me? Yeah. What do you say?"

Former Paladin Danse, tentatively agreed, and became Lieutenant Danse of the Minutemen, with an ex-Gunner and a Synth Detective as witnesses.

Lieutenant Danse reflected that if anyone had told him this is where he'd find himself a few days ago, he would have thought them insane.

-chapter end-

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Hehehe, Danse get's a redemption arch in MY story. Tin can man finally gets a cause he should actually believe in._


	10. Danse With the Detective

_**Author's Note:**_ _I ship Danse with Nick Valentine... it's a rare pair, but honestly? They have so much in common guys! The trust that Nick displays here might seem out of character, but I would argue that Malcolm serves as an outside source of confidence. Like, if Danse had used the opportunity to harm him, Malcolm's wrath wouldn't be too far behind._

 **Chapter Ten: Danse With the Detective**

Preston needed a little more convincing than Danse had, but ultimately trusted that Malcolm knew what he was doing, "I'll get him up to speed on the operations here General, I'm guessing that you're going to want me to bring the others up to speed as well?"

"Tomorrow; he's catching up with Haylen at the moment," Malcolm said, "Introduce Lieutenant Danse around, get him familiarized… and don't worry Preston, you're still my second in command."

Preston beamed, "I won't let you down General!" Preston saluted and marched off to continue his rounds of Sanctuary.

Danse was currently enveloped in a relieved hug, courtesy of Haylen. "I'm so glad you're safe." She cried, "I was so worried, that they'd get to you before I managed to get the General to help you."

Danse awkwardly comforted her, "Your warning saved my life, Haylen. I'm here, I'm safe."

Haylen laughed, "Not only that, we've only barely just left the Brotherhood and _you already outrank me_ in the Minutemen!"

Danse blinked, "You joined the Minutemen as well? What is your ranking?"

"Field medic, they don't have as much of a ranking system here, far as I can figure. I think it's just different specialties:

Runners, who are the sort of recon mission/ messagers/scouts/ material gatherers.

Mechanics, upkeep the equipment, turrets, and build and repair stuff like water purification systems.

Field and Settlement Medics. Which are pretty much exactly what they sound like.

Each unit has a member that acts as a sort of Captain, who job is being the primary point of contact for that unit. They're the ones that radio Sanctuary to get the orders for their unit, ask for reinforcements, or to deliver information.

And then the Minutemen have heavy, and light artillery, snipers, close combat fighters… each unit has a mixture of the specialties depending on the location, and of course there's the fact that every Minutemen that sees the General's flare will rush to whatever settlement he's in to aid him."

Haylen considered for a moment, "Then I guess there's Garvey as the… well I suppose his title is now Lieutenant-General, to distinguish him as the General's second in command, so you probably rank just below him."

Malcolm strode up to them, "It's a bit ungainly, I'll grant you that. However, I think we've done alright, considering I was declared General by Garvey _literally the day_ I defrosted from vault 111."

Danse nodded, "With how fast the Minutemen have grown the last two months I imagine it would be a lot to manage and organize."

Malcolm blinked, "Has it only been two months? Feels like a lot longer."

Haylen nodded, "Just a little over two months, I think."

Malcolm consulted his Pip Boy, he fiddled a bit with the dialing knobs, "Huh. Yeah that's right."

Danse straightened up, "So when am I officially on duty General?"

Malcolm chuckled, "At ease, I have Garvey orientating you tomorrow. I'm going to attempt to take it easy over the next two days, but don't hesitate to raise any concerns with either me or Garvey. You guys should feel free to share whatever Brotherhood know-how you feel might be useful."

Danse nodded, "Did you see where Nick went to, I wanted to see if he would like my help repairing his hand?"

Malcolm whistled for Dogmeat, "Where'd Nicky go boy? Find the detective!"

Dogmeat ran over to the Red Rocket Gas Station, "Ah, Sturges' workshop. Makes sense. That's where we keep a lot of the fiddly tools."

Danse smiled and said he hoped to see Field Medic Haylen around later. Haylen laughed, and reassured him that she'd be around. Then Danse headed off towards the gas station.

* * *

Nick was indeed attempting repairs on his hand, "Oh hey Lieutenant Danse, settling in okay?"

Danse gave a half shrug, trying to appear casual. Still feeling rather exposed without his power armor. He eyed the set of power armor currently on the rack, "I believe I am 'settling in' adequately… whose armor is this?"

Nick smiled warmly, "Project that Malcolm and Sturges mod in their off time as a hobby, Malcolm doesn't use power armor himself, jokes he's more the agile, light artillery, martial art fighter."

"I've seen him fight, and he's not wrong. Did you know he's got a sword he calls 'The Valentine?'.

Nick chuckled, "He named that sword before he met me, if you can believe it. The sword hilt has a sort of decorative heart motif, and he thought it would be an ironic name for a sword. He told me about it shortly after he became my partner for my detective agency."

Danse blinked, "So he's a detective and a General at the same time?"

Nick nodded, "And the Silver Shroud, on occasion."

"Where on earth does he find the time?"

"You got me, I'm just glad he's got MacCready to watch his back now."

Danse pointed at Nick's right hand, "Need help with that?"

Nick laughed, "Ah, and now we get to why you decided to check up on me." He sat down across a workbench with a toolbox and a container set on it to place small loose pieces into. "I would definitely appreciate the help, pre-war Nick Valentine was right handed, I'm ambidextrous but old habits make it so I've never been able to entirely disassemble my right hand all on my own."

Dance approached and sat across from Nick, "You have help usually?"

Nick watched as Danse carefully removed various different components from his hand, "Sturges, when I'm here. Sometimes Charles over in Goodneighbor...I don't know if anyone is knowledgeable enough in Diamond City to completely disassemble and reassemble it though, so mostly I just do self-maintenance as best as I can."

"Some of these components have started to chafe and shave. You'll need those replaced, and entirely new spacers."

"There's a few boxes of reclaimed Gen 2 parts over in the corner. Other than the sparkling pre-loaded personality and attempts at a few other bells and whistles—like the artificial skin for example, I'm structurally similar to a Gen 2."

"Ever considered patching the gaps in the synthetic skin?" Danse asked warily, "It's probably not safe to have your throat wiring so exposed to the elements."

Nick hummed, "Probably should make sure to clean out whatever grime that has got in there before I do that."

"At least consider a glove for this exposed hand, the carpal-bone simulacrum wouldn't have gotten so jammed up with dirt and other junk if you took some preventative measures."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Nick cycled his optics, the bright yellow light appearing to shutter as he simulated a blink.

Danse glanced up curiously, "Do you need to blink or is that just a reflex?"

Nick gave a half shrug, "Every so often the optics refresh? My perception dims a little as a result, I think I mostly blink because I think a part of me still thinks that it helps. Might also be muscle memory, because I still find myself venting air to simulate sighs even though I don't even need to breathe."

"Do you get tired?"

Nick smiled, "Not like Nick remembers. I don't need to eat or sleep either, closest to sleep I get is a full system diagnostic run. I don't feel temperatures, but I have sensors that warn me if I'm about to overheat."

Danse chuckled ruefully, "It almost sounds like Gen 3's were a bit of a downgrade? Because I know I get tired, and hungry, and cold… and I couldn't just replace my hand if I needed to."

Nick scoffed, "Well you could, with a prosthetic, but I get your meaning. Sure, I can replace parts, but I sometimes wonder how much of me is the same Nick as the one that woke up in a dumpster outside of the Institute over a century ago."

Danse shifted, "I suppose I never thought of it that way, if you slowly replace every part for a new part over time until every piece has been replaced is what you have at the end the same collection of objects as before?"

"Pre-war, we had that thought process named the ship of Theseus."

"What sorts of memories do you have of pre-war Nick's?"

"They mostly come to me in flashes, it's mostly the cop instinct and experience at the forefront, and those have kept me alive."

Danse had managed to completely disassemble the hand and he got up to root for replacement parts in the box of mixed Gen 2 scrap.

After rescuing the necessary components, Danse returned to the table and began to grease the contact points, Danse looked at the various loose pieces and glanced at Nick, "Was it weird, the first time you had to have your hand disassembled?"

Nick smiled, "Very, I almost couldn't bear watching, but I also couldn't _not look_ — y'know?"

"Like watching a vertibird crash, terrible to witness, but you can't tear your eyes away." Danse ventured, "Plus I imagine you probably want to make sure pieces don't get misplaced."

Nick snorted, "You're right, I would rather have a working hand with all the parts placed back where they need to be."

The basic framework for the hand was already back in place, Nick adjusted his optics and closely observed Danse work on a particularly delicate part, "This is going really smoothly, I got to say."

"Thank you, I've had a lot of practice modding power armor."

"Malcolm would definitely let you mod the power armors he's found around the Commonwealth, you'd only need to ask. Heck, you probably don't even need to ask, he's probably expecting that you'd want to do exactly that."

"I…" Danse hesitated, "I don't want to risk upsetting General Germaine."

Nick raised a near invisible brow, "Ask him if that'll make you feel better. Kid'll probably straight _**give**_ you one of the better ones."

Danse furrowed his brow, "How can you be so sure?"

Nick chuckled, "You have _met_ Malcolm right? Plus, I'd class you as a heavy artillery, and we know you've got plenty of experience with power armor. Malcolm did make you a lieutenant, after all."

"I still would rather ask first."

Nick nodded, "Alright, I respect that," Nick suddenly glanced up, "Oh hey, speak of the devil."

"What?"

Malcolm chuckled, "You guys talking about little 'ol me?" Danse shifted guiltily but Malcolm just smiled, "Relax, Danse you're not in trouble, thought I'd see how the hand repair was coming along?"

Nick smiled, "Sailing along smoothly, doll. Danse has a real knack for this."

Danse blushed, "Just a lot of practice."

Malcolm nodded, "Practice modding power armor?"

Danse shot a wary glance at Nick, "Yes, and studying Gen 1 and 2 synths."

Malcolm wandered over to the white power armor on the rack, and started painting blue stripes and stars in bands on one of the arms, "This is the same design Preston's got as bands on both of his arms," he explained, "Blue, for the Minutemen."

Danse blinked, "You intend to assign that armor to Lieutenant-General Garvey?"

There was a beat of silence and Malcolm and Nick shared a look over Danse's head.

Malcolm laughed, "No, he's a sniper-class. Light artillery. I'm assigning this to you, feel free to mod it however works best for you; exempting the bands because those will help identify you as a lieutenant."

Danse blinked, "Thank you, General Germaine." He said with a tone that betrayed a slight disbelief.

"It's no problem, we'll get you fitted for a regular Minuteman uniform tomorrow, Jun Long's the settlement's tailor so he'll take your measurements when Garvey introduces you around."

Nick laughed, "What'd I tell you? The kid is something else."

Danse shifted his attention back to Nick's hand, to avoid having to find something else to say.

Malcolm finished painting the bands and then excused himself from the Red Rocket Gas Station. "If either of you need me I'll be at the Long's farm teaching Kyle musical scales for an hour. After that you'd probably have to track me with Dogmeat."

They said their farewells and Malcolm wandered away.

Danse gently took up Nick's right hand in both of his, holding carefully at the wrist. "Flex your hand towards yourself."

Nick curled his hand, smiling at the silent shifting of the components. His had hadn't been this quiet since his last full maintenance session.

Danse nodded, "Good, now touch each finger to your thumb one by one, keeping the thumb stationary."

Nick complied easily, as both of them observed the right hand cycle through the exercise. Nick smiled, "Would you look at that, good as new."

Their eyes met across the table, and there was a comfortable silence as they both smiled at the other.

Danse felt the weight of Nick's metal hand in his, still held at the wrist by both of his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

Danse felt captivated by Nick's glowing yellow eyes, he self-consciously relaxed his grip and averted his eyes, only to catch his gaze on the gashes in Nick's synthetic skin.

Nick smiled and ducked his chin, "Do they really bother you that much?"

Danse's eyes snapped back up, "I…" Danse began to extract his hands, only to have Nick shush him, and scoop up both his hands with his own. Nick used his left hand to bring up Danse's right to the larger gap on the side.

The vulnerable line of wires easily being trusted to Danse's hand.

The amount of trust on display absolutely floored Danse. Allowing Danse to completely disassemble one of his hands had been significant enough on its own, but this was literally Nick saying that he was willing to trust Danse with his life.

Danse swallowed nervously, but found himself saying, "I'd want to clean out any accrued grime first, like you'd said."

Nick gave a nod, one that brought Danse's hand right to the vulnerable line of his throat. "Alright. You close the door, I'll fetch the washing supplies."

Nick rose from the table and started collecting items from around the shop.

Danse huffed out a disbelieving breath, but he went to close the workshop's garage door.

* * *

Nick had divested himself of all of his clothing, and left them folded carefully in a corner on a chair. He wasn't technically _naked_ as he hadn't ' _the proper equipment'._

Danse saw a bevy of small gashes and gaps in synthetic skin. He ran water and soap through the gashes, watching as dirt tinged water flowed out of gashes in Nick's back and collected in the washbasin Nick was laying in.

It felt like they were teetering on the cusp of some sort of precipice, not sure yet if they were going to be able to keep their footing on the cliff's edge or if both would plummet into the unknown.

Danse rinsed clean water through Nick to wash out the soap, let Nick run his cooling fans long enough to dry out, and took up some modded stim packs to use to bond the white synthetic skin to the patches he'd crafted.

The synthetic skin began to knit before their very eyes, and Nick vented a involuntary simulation of a hitched breath. His optics adjusting focus as his eyes fluttered closed.

Nick practically moaned, " _Danse."_

Suddenly, there was no remaining on the cliff's edge.

And two synths, made by the Institute and commiserate in their shared questions of identity, clutched each in a passion-fueled kiss.

Danse could feel the difference to how the synthetic skin felt beneath his lips, and how the taste of cigarette smoke was tinged slightly with the tang of metal.

Nick vented a breath of air into Danse's open mouth, delaying any need to pull away for oxygen.

Both their hands on the back of the other's head, arms crooked to keep the other close.

The floodgates had opened, the two synths in perfect concert, plummeting together towards a future uncertain in every matter _except_ for the fact that now they would face the uncertainties of life _**together**_ , starting this very moment.

-chapter end-

 _ **Authors Note:**_ _Danse's mechanical jargon is 100% fabricated by me. I hope it sounded convincing._


	11. Introductions, New and Old

_**Author's Note**_ _: When Danse has reason to be loyal to a cause, he would die for it. There are quite a few people on that list as well... Jun Long is about to be added to that list._

 **Chapter Eleven: Introductions, New and Old**

Lieutenant Danse took careful notes during his tour of Sanctuary, trying his best to retain all the important information.

When he was introduced to Sturges, they had a brief chat over the model of power armor he was currently modding. Sturges seemed like someone he could definitely see himself getting along with in the future.

Jun Long was a nervous man, but not because of any specific reservations about Danse. He had calmed somewhat since the massacre at Quincy, but was still coping by being overly polite and considerate. Jun talked him through how to measure his own inseams so that he wouldn't violate any personal space.

When the measurements were being wrapped up Jun chuckled, nervously he considered his notes, "5' 8", that'll make you the second tallest Minuteman I've had to fit in Sanctuary. Might actually have to extend some hems instead of bringing them in."

Danse thought back to his brief interactions with passing Minutemen, and it occurred to them that barring Malcolm he had been the tallest, Preston Garvey was a close second to his own height… Nick seemed somewhere in between Malcolm's height and his own.

"Second tallest Minuteman… that is an odd distinction?"

"I've tailored a trench coat for Detective Valentine too, he's exactly 6' tall… if you don't mind me pointing this out; it's mostly pre-war ghouls, vault dweller's, and synths that manage to get, or are, that tall."

"Well, you've been informed that...I am a synth, right?"

Jun smiled, "So is Sturges, it doesn't make any difference to me. Other than when it comes to tailoring proper clothes, with synths usually being taller than the Commonwealth average height."

Danse mulled this over, "I suppose lack of nutrition or radiation wasn't exactly a factor in our...creation."

Jun nodded, "It made me think General Germaine was a synth when I first met him. Imagine my surprise when it turned out he was actually _pre-war_." Jun chuckled, "He's not like anyone I've ever met before, so unfailingly kind and generous. Still, I worry about him."

Danse tilted his head inquiringly, "Worry?"

"I think General Germaine is over extending himself, purposefully making himself so busy, he doesn't have to think about how much the world has changed since that war 200 years ago. Maybe he might also still be in a sort of shock? I'm fearful that the reality of it all will hit him all at once."

Danse nodded, earlier he had brushed off a statement Malcolm had made concerning this very issue ' _Life throws us stuff we don't expect, do you think I expected to leave that vault and be 200 years in the future?'_

Danse had been too busy wallowing in self-pity, he'd replied, ' _and yet, you've been able to roll with every punch.'_ Danse swallowed harshly, Malcolm clearly _**hadn't**_ allowed himself to actually dwell on his situation. Likely, it had been too much to process.

So, intellectually Malcolm probably fully understood the implications of being separated from his world by two centuries, but his mind was buffering his emotions from _**realizing**_ the implications.

Heck, he'd even mentioned a twin brother that had moved to Bar Harbor 'three months before the bombs dropped.' but likely his brain had been thinking, 'three months ago'.

Danse shifted as Jun handed him up a coat, he put it on and it fit perfectly. "There." Jun said, "You're all set Lieutenant Danse."

Danse nodded quietly musing that Jun would be a welcomed asset in any settlement, "I appreciate it Mr. Long, I hope to do the uniform and the Minutemen proud."

Jun smiled wanly, "Keep an eye on the General… Kyle had asked Cogsworth when the General's birthday is… because he'd wanted to give him a present as a surprise… _the General's birthday is_ _ **tomorrow**_ _."_

Danse blinked in surprise, Jun sat down in a chair on the corner, "I worry he might just realize then…"— So, Jun was indeed a valuable ally to work on cultivating a bond with in Sanctuary, his family seemed very closely tied to the General, especially concerning Kyle.

Danse nodded, "I'll keep an eye on him… how many people know?"

"I told Preston… lieutenant-general Garvey, when Kyle told me a week ago, I don't know who Preston's told… I imagine he's told Mr. MacCready… if Cogsworth hadn't already."

Danse mulled this over, "I should probably tell Nick too, thank you Mr. Long, for _**all**_ your help."

* * *

Nick had sighed deeply, "Probably the kid's first birthday away from his twin." He steepled his fingers together, "That's probably what'll hit him hardest about it…"

Danse nodded.

Nick hummed, deep in thought… then chuckled softly to himself.

Danse raised an eyebrow, "What's so funny about that?"

Nick started slightly, "What— oh no, Danse. It's just his birthdate. It's… it struck me just now."

Danse frowned, "What about it?"

Nick leaned back in a chair, "Tomorrow is February 14th, it's _**Valentine's Day."**_

Danse sat across from Nick, "That old pre-war holiday… it celebrated romance?"

"The very same, it also makes Malcolm and Mack both Gemini's, the astrological sign that is _literally_ a twin."

"So reminders on all sides then?"

Nick hummed again, even deeper in thought, "Has Kyle been dissuaded from giving Malcolm a gift?"

"I don't know." Danse blinked, "Do you think he should?"

"Heck, I don't know. It might be the thing that reminds him how different his birthdays will be now, _how he's never gonna share another one with his twin brother,_ " Nick blinked, then muttered, "For all we know, even seeing me and remembering my last name is _Valentine_ , might set him off."

Danse sighed deeply, "We can't avoid the topic forever. Eventually he's got to realize… better if he does it surrounded by friends."

"I agree."

* * *

Malcolm seemed in good spirits as Kyle handed him a piece of paper with a drawing. "Awe, is this for me?"

Kyle beamed, "It's a drawing of you and me playing violins, happy birthday Mr. General, sir!"

Malcolm hugged Kyle, beaming ear to ear, "Thank you Kyle I love it! Cogsworth!"

"Yes sir?"

"Find me a frame for this, I'm putting it on the mantle!"

Malcolm set up the framed drawing on a shelf he'd installed in his house, "This is an awesome birthday present, thank you."

He gave Kyle a hug and Kyle ran back off to his parents farm, laughing happily the whole way.

Malcolm turned and saw Lieutenant Danse and Nick hovering outside, "Oh hey guys!" And then a silly grin crossed his face, and he winked at Nick, "Happy Valentine's Day, Detective."

Nick shuttered his optics and chuckled, "Oh come off it, doll." He said waving him off, "I'll have you know I'm already spoken for!"

Danse found himself blushing as Nick took up and held his right hand with his left.

Malcolm grinned, "Why Mr. Valentine!" Malcolm fanned himself with his hands and affected a southern belle accent, "The very insinuation that I would try anything, I am a happily married man."

Danse's eyes widened, "You're _married_." Danse asked warily, "...To who?"

MacCready suddenly appears from behind Malcolm, hair ruffled, obviously woken up by all the noise. "He's married to me."

Nick chuckled, "You work fast doll, you've only known each other for a month."

Malcolm huffed out a laugh, "We actually got married two days after we met."

MacCready ribbed Malcolm, "Waited until that long to tell me his _name_ too."

Malcolm shrugged, "Still working on the whole 'learning how to introduce yourself' part."

Danse and Nick shared a look.

Malcolm sighed, "Don't worry about me, I know why you're checking up on me. It's fine, I'm fine. I already had my realization breakdown a month ago, now I follow the shark credo for staying alive."

" _What?"_ Danse wondered, " _Huh?"_ MacCready agreed.

Nick nodded and smiled, "Keep swimming."

Malcolm chuckled, "Are they not called sharks anymore, or is it just not common knowledge that they need to keep swimming in order to breathe?"

"The latter, I suspect."

MacCready shook his head, "You two and your pre-war references," he said laughing, "Maybe we should swing over by Goodneighbor and rope Connolly into this."

Malcolm clapped his hands once in excitement, " _That's a_ _great idea."_ His face was one of unmistakable glee, "Geeking out over comics is my jam, let's go!"

Danse huffed out a disbelieving breath, but still allowed himself to get swept up in Malcolm's enthusiasm.

* * *

Hancock was a gracious host, having them all up in his estate house. Danse had to try very hard to not cringe whenever the ghoul huffed jet, or talked to him directly. He had less problems with Kent Connolly, who was polite, and actively making himself as small as possible where he sat.

As it turned out, Nick and Hancock were old friends, so it would probably prudent for Danse to attempt to put up with him.

Hancock took a huff of jet, "So Nicky's day is your birthday?"

Nick rolled his eyes, "You know very well that _Valentine's Day_ wasn't named after me."

Kent, for his part seemed slightly uncomfortable with the amount of people in the room, but he seemed content to sit near Malcolm. "So, that h-help give you t-the idea f-for your sword's n-name?"

"What can I say, I'm a huge dork."

Malcolm, of course, had brought his violin, and was taking requests. Which amused Nick.

"It's _your_ birthday doll," he'd chuffed, "and still you gotta be the one giving us stuff."

Malcolm grinned slyly, "It's like you don't know me at all Nick, this is a great way to spend my birthday."

Kent laughed, "It's been a l-long time s-since I heard a m-musical instrum-ment l-live and in p-person. Y-you'd be a real h-hit down in t-the T-third Rail B-bar."

Malcolm blushed, "Other than Sanctuary, this is the only group I've played in front of. Again, I was super shy before the bombs dropped."

MacCready laughed, "You'd never know it now."

Malcolm shrugged, "It's true though, Machiavelli was always the more outgoing one."

Hancock tilted his head, "Mack-e-a who now?"

"My twin brother, Machiavelli Germaine."

"There were _two_ of you?!" Hancock coughed, "I mean Sunshine, I cannot even imagine— sometimes when I hear the rumors about your exploits, I had wondered if they could all be the same guy. What with you being the General of the Minutemen, a Detective, and the Silver Shroud—"

Kent leaned in, "What on e-earth did you c-cut in that j-jet?"

Hancock barreled on, ignoring Kent, "Then there was that rumor of a vault dweller up in Far Harbor, and I—"

Malcolm visibly paled, " _ **Far Harbor?!"**_

Hancock snorts, "Yeah, and from the descriptions, I thought it was you! But, I was like, ain't no way he's doing all this stuff here 'nd got time to swing by Far Harbor!"

"The… description, sounded like me?"

"Yeah. Big, tall, vault dweller...but apparently vault 112, so there's that."

"Did… he have any identifying markings, say for example, a tattoo."

Hancock considered, "Hey Fahrenheit, what'd that trader from Far Harbor say again?"

Fahrenheit leaned in, "Something about a weird drawing on the inside of his right wrist."

Malcolm was shaking now, as he removed his Pip Boy. On the inside of his left wrist was a simple stylized line drawing.

"Me and Machiavelli have matching tattoos on opposite wrists."

Hancock squinted at the tattoo , "What's that even supposed to be?"

Malcolm showed the tattoo to Nick, "It's a stylized line drawing, supposed to look like a martini glass with a garnish."

Nick observed the tattoo, "It does, so you think this mysterious vault dweller from Far Harbor might be Mack?"

Malcolm shifted uneasily, "It… the odds against that are _**astronomical**_."

Hancock nodded, "Well, last I heard he was headed for Sanctuary, that's what clinched it for me; in thinking it was you I mean."

Malcolm blinked, "He… must be _looking_ for me. Maybe he heard rumors about all the stuff I was doing— this is insane."

Malcolm looked at MacCready, "He might be _alive_ Robert, my brother might be _alive."_

MacCready wrapped Malcolm in his arms best he could, "Well, if there's anything I've learned about you Germaine's it is, that you're survivors."

Hancock chuckled, "I'll drink to that!"

Malcolm nodded faintly, " _I gotta tell the people at Sanctuary."_

 _-chapter end-_

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Ohhh now it gets_ _complicated._ _Vault 112's Sole Survivor is on his way to Sanctuary!_


End file.
